


Heel, Achilles (Act I)

by Lord of Reth (Morathor)



Series: Regency [1]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Anal Beads, Anal Sex, Aphrodisacs, Blindfolds, Bondage, Clothed Sex, Clothing Porn, Collars, Corruption, Dom/sub, F/M, Fingers in Mouth, Gags, Handcuffs, Leashes, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Public Hand Jobs, Public Humiliation, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Sex Addiction, Sex Work, Strap-Ons, The Following Tags Are Included For Disclosure But Are Not Thematic Elements, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Victorian Aesthetics, nonsexual choking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:20:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 17
Words: 67,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26915038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morathor/pseuds/Lord%20of%20Reth
Summary: A corrupted land, and a pristine city high above.  A savage wilderness, overrun with danger and monsters, and a rigid society, ruled by draconian traditions.  A Huntress must navigate these disparate worlds, and Pyrrha Nikos is one of the best--a promising rookie with a sterling reputation and a flawless record.  But with a single misstep, the untouchable prodigy finds herself stumbling down a dark path, where both of her worlds begin to unravel.
Relationships: Cinder Fall/Emerald Sustrai, Creatures of Grimm/Pyrrha Nikos, Jaune Arc/Pyrrha Nikos, Jaune Arc/Weiss Schnee
Series: Regency [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2122554
Comments: 48
Kudos: 106





	1. Into a Grimm World

The mid-day sun poured down onto the thick canopy of black leaves, but very little of its stark light found its way to the forest floor. Down amidst the thick, gnarled trunks of the ancient trees, it might as well have been midnight. Not that anything living in those depths relied on light to see. If anything, the rays of the sun would have disturbed the creatures creeping through the undergrowth.

Certainly, they were disturbed by the beacon of blazing light that came streaking down from the blood-red sky, parting the clouds and crashing through the canopy with a metallic shriek, before hitting the ground with an earth-shaking thud. Debris scattered from the point of impact, sending small creatures scattering as well, and silencing the customary hoots and hisses of the forest for miles around. For a moment, everything was silent, save the quiet crackling of a few smoldering fires kindled by the meteoric impact of the blackened metal cylinder.

Then there was a hiss, and the cylinder unfolded. Shelves slid out of its sides, revealing racks of weaponry and supplies. Several layers of metal in the front parted, letting out a cloud of white fog that poured out into the jungle, evaporating quickly to reveal a tall, slim figure that barely fit within the chamber that contained her. She was covered head to toe, dressed mainly in rust red, jet black, and burnished bronze. With goggles covering her eyes and a hard mask of metal and plastic covering the lower half of her face, her vivid red hair was nearly the only bit of her exposed to the open air, styled into a tight, tidy bun.

She lay unmoving, with her arms crossed over her chest; she could easily have been taken for a corpse. Two thick, spiraling tubes connected to either side of her mask, just above the jawline; a faint hiss of gas could be heard coming from them. But, in time, that sound died away. And a few minutes later, the thick lashes under the woman's goggles stirred, and she opened her bright green eyes.

She blinked a few times, and then reached up to to detach the two tubes from her mask. Setting them aside, she clambered out of the pod and onto the charred ground. Despite the grogginess that still clouded her eyes, she did not stumble, hitting the ground with steady footing. She turned to the weapons racks, already reaching up to unbutton her military-style jacket, revealing more of the long gloves and snug black bodysuit that covered her from foot to collarbone, as well as the ornate golden gorget that encircled her neck.

Tossing the jacket back into the pod, she took the sturdy, bronze-colored breastplate from the rack and began strapping it on. Greaves and bracers soon followed, as did a bulky belt adorned with plates and pouches. She glanced back at the jacket in the pod, but after a moment she reached up to wipe her brow with her forearm--already a thin sheen of sweat was beginning to build there--and turned instead towards the supply shelf on the other side.

She pulled a satchel from the rack and packed it carefully. Some tools were left behind; some she picked up, examined thoughtfully, then put back. She pulled a pair of cylinders from their nook in the shelf and pried them apart, unfurling a translucent sheet of plastic between them. An array of lines and icons appeared on the surface; she looked them over carefully, glanced around at her surroundings, then rolled the scroll-like device back up and set it back in its place.

Returning to the weapons rack, she strapped her shield to her back and fastened her blade at her hip, and finally began folding up the various expansions of the pod--sliding the equipment shelves back into the interior, closing up the central chamber, leaving the whole thing a smooth, metallic cylinder that definitely did not belong in this jungle.

She glanced up at the sky, squinting towards the sun, then at the horizon, before reaching up to her goggles and pressing a button on the bronze frames. A number appeared on the inside of the right lens--622:48. As she watched, it ticked down to 622:47. She lowered her hand, and the numbers disappeared as she crept into the underbrush.

* * *

Several hours later, with a hooked instrument in each hand, she was climbing up a massive, ancient tree, which towered dozens of feet over the rest of the canopy line. Her pale shoulders shone with sweat as she scaled the trunk nearly as quickly as she had traversed the ground below. Eventually, she reached a branch above the canopy that was several feet across--wide enough for her to sit on, settling into place with her back against the trunk. She sat still for a few minutes, until her shoulders stopped rising and falling with each labored breath.

When she was breathing more easily, she looked out over the canopy below her, gaze sweeping across the landscape. As her eyes fell on a tree nearly as large as the one she sat in, her brow furrowed. Eventually her gaze turned back towards the hole in the canopy from when she had landed. By this point, smoke had stopped rising, and the flickering flames had died out. There was a hint of movement around the crater--large creatures, visible in the darkness only by the bony white protrusions on their bodies. She turned and glanced up at the sky, then again at the horizon. Then she tucked her climbing hooks into her satchel and withdrew a small, leatherbound book. She opened it up, pulled a pen from a loop in the back binding, and began writing.

_Pyrrha Nikos, Expedition 4, Day 1_   
_Time Until Extraction: 620 hours_

_I've landed with no complications and moved to a secure secondary location above the canopy. Holding position until nightfall; once the stars are visible, I'll confirm my coordinates and move out. Assuming our data is good, and my landing pod didn't go off course, it should be eight to ten days to my objective._

_Heat and humidity are both very high in this area, so I'm dealing with more sweat than usual. I packed double the water, along with extra electrolyte tabs and emergency filters. I also packed extra aluminum salts; so far, my uniform lining is holding up, but I don't think it's going to last all the way to my destination, let alone the round trip. If my scent gives away my position, I could have Grimm slowing me down quite a bit._

_With the thick tree cover, very little light reaches the forest floor, even in the middle of the day. Grimm thrive in a place like this; my landing site is already crawling with Creeps. I also spotted a giant Nevermore nest, although it doesn't seem to be home right now. If it comes back before I leave, I might need to take it down. The canopy will certainly be safer if I can get that threat out of the picture now; it doesn't look like there's more than one of any size or consequence in this area. And while arboreal Grimm are likely to be common in this area as well, they should stay in the lower branches unless they have a compelling reason to come up into the sunlight. So as long as I travel by night, I'll be relatively safe to rest in the treetops by day._

* * *

The forest was quiet for the next few hours. And few paid any mind to the hawklike scream that rang high above, just past nightfall. Some took notice of the thunderous bangs and metallic clangs that echoed through the branches, but those were so distant and muffled that most of the Grimm went about their business. It was only when, for the second time that day, something fell from the heavens, crashed through the canopy, and slammed into the ground, that the Grimm scattered. This time, the fallen object was a massive black bird. Its enormous wings, whose awkward thrashing splintered several tree trunks as it struggled to get up off its back, must have spread fourty feet across the forest floor. It began to lift its head, four eyes glowing a livid red and glaring straight up towards the canopy.

Then one final thing fell from the sky, though at the speed it was rocketing downward, it would have been easy to miss it until it had lodged itself in the creature's throat, pinning it back to the ground. After one final spasm, the Nevermore went limp, head falling back and wings splaying inelegantly across the undergrowth. After a few seconds, thick black smoke began rising from the body, while the remains seemed to deflate, eventually dissolving into thick black sludge that spread across the forest floor. It seeped into the black earth, while the plant life soaked it up greedily. Soon all that remained was the bony white plate that had covered the creature's face like a mask, and the gleaming bronze javelin that had pierced its throat.

A minute or two later, Pyrrha dropped down from the branches just above. She pulled her weapon from the ground, wiped it clean, and compacted it to a smaller size before resheathing it at her hip. She reached up to her goggles to display the countdown again.

_614:27_

She walked silently into the forest.


	2. Rules of Engagement

Soft beams of moonlight poured down into the dark glade. The trees were sparse here, and the canopy thin. It was enough to diffuse the moonlight, but not to block it out entirely. And right over the center of the glade, a single shaft of light made its way almost uninterrupted to the forest floor. Amidst the midnight gloom, it stood out like a spotlight, sharply illuminating the huntress who stood in the middle of the clearing, spear and shield in hand. Six figures stalked the darkness around her, slowly circling their prey--lupine creatures, with bony masks and rows of spikes along their backs and limbs. Two more hung back in the shadow of the treeline, though their presence was betrayed by the baleful glow of their red eyes.

Despite being outnumbered and surrounded, Pyrrha's eyes were not on the Beowolves at all. Instead she was scanning the lower branches, trying to plot some escape route. Despite her title, hunting and slaying the Grimm was not really a priority for Pyrrha. Some battles couldn't be avoided, and if she had to fight, it was better to do it on her own terms, but if she didn't have to...

But no. This pack had been stalking her for hours, and she'd already made every effort to shake them off her tail. Now they'd managed to chase her into this open clearing, and there was no way out but through them. Pyrrha tried to muster some shred of sympathy for them, knowing they were only acting on instinct, but when their instincts were so abhorrent and malevolent, she could find very little pity within her heart.

Three Beowolves broke from their circling to charge Pyrrha; judging by its footfalls, the one behind her would reach her first, with the two she could see serving mainly as feints. The Huntress pivoted to her right, raising her shield to intercept the swinging claws of the beast as it reared up on its hind legs. At the same time, she jammed the bladed end of her javelin into its stomach. As the blow against her shield began to drive her back, she kicked off the ground, letting it send her hurling across the clearing, and adding just enough upward momentum that she soared over the heads fo the other Beowolves rather than falling into their clutches. As the Beowolf that had attacked her collapsed, smoke and black sludge pouring from the now gaping wound in its stomach, Pyrrha landed gracefully behind one of the other Grimm and skewered it before it could even turn to face her.

Above all, mobility was key when fighting Grimm. You couldn't let yourself get pinned down, couldn't fall into a position where you'd be forced to take the brunt of their attacks. Your body couldn't take it, your armor couldn't protect you, and in fact Pyrrha knew many Huntresses didn't bother with armor or shields at all. But she had found that a little bit of protection opened up a lot of ways to use the Grimms' tremendous strength to your advantage. So long as you were careful.

As the first two Beowolves fell, two more were already pouncing on Pyrrha. She hurled her javelin towards the one approaching from her right, letting the momentum of its leap as much as the strength of her arm drive the blade deep into its gut. She ran towards the creature, shield over her head to guard against any glancing blows from its confused, clumsy flailing. She gripped her javelin and, just before the black ichor seeping from the wound could reach her gloved hand, circled around the Grimm, dragging the weapon with her and gutting the creature in the process. She freed her blade from its body with a flourish, splattering the black sludge across the forest floor, then leaped away from the pool of that same sludge now spreading from beneath the corpse.

That was another reason mobility was key: the Grimm were toxic. The corruption that had claimed Remnant was omnipresent; it was in the soil, the water, even the air, and of course, it permeated the bodies of the Grimm. It was in their skin and muscles and bones, it was in the oily secretions that coated their skin, fur, and feathers; even the venom possessed by some Grimm was just a more concentrated version of the same toxic essence. The poison was not lethal, but it was debilitating, leaving a Huntress vulnerable to an even worse fate. And while the worst case scenario was to absorb it through an open wound or mucous membrane, it could be absorbed through the lungs, or even the skin.

With the Beowolf on her right dealt with, the one on her left was still bounding towards her. On top of that, the two that had taken part in the initial feint had adjusted their course and were closing in on her. At this rate, they would catch her in a pincer attack, and that could be hard to squeeze out of. With a flick of her wrist, the blade of her javelin separated down the middle and parted to reveal a rust red gun barrel. Lifting her rifle, she fired rapidly at the two Grimm approaching from the same direction--one round for the first, one round for the second. The wounds weren't severe, but they were enough to slow the creatures down, and more importantly to throw off their formation. Instead of converging on her all at once, the three Grimm came at her one by one, and one by one Pyrrha cut them down.

Switching her weapon back into its rifle mode, Pyrrha took aim at the two Beowolves that had been skulking in the shadows since the beginning. One charged her, snarling and baying, but a round into its open mouth stopped it in its tracks, long enough for her to finish it off with the blade. The other, observing the fate of its last packmate, turned and ran. Bound by their instincts or not, Grimm were capable of some tactical thinking. It could no more abandon its hunt than Pyrrha could will her heart to stop beating, but it could fall back and wait for a better opportunity to strike. An opportunity which Pyrrha didn't want to give it. The beast already had her scent; she was going to have to deal with it sooner or later, and if she had to fight, it was better to do it on her own terms.

With a quiet sigh, Pyrrha lifted her javelin and, taking a running start, hurled it into the darkness. A strangled yelp let her know she had found her mark. She glanced around, confirming there were no more Grimm waiting to creep out of the shadows and attack her. If there weren't now, there would be soon, after such a ruckus. Pyrrha headed into the woods to retrieve her weapon.

* * *

_Pyrrha Nikos, Expedition 4, Day 4_   
_Time Until Extraction: 528 hours_

_I lost some time today trying to throw some Beowolves off my trail. Considering I ended up having to fight anyway, I wonder if I should have taken them down as soon as they caught my scent. Regardless, I'm making good progress towards my objective, and if I increase my application of aluminum salts, I should be able to avoid wasting any more time on incidents like the one today._

_I'm starting to pass buildings in the jungle, or what's left of them. It's hard to tell how much of the damage is the result of Grimm attacks, and how much is just erosion. I wish I had the time and tools to examine them more thoroughly. I'd be interested to know whether the Grimm destroyed these buildings, and more importantly, whether or not they were evacuated first. That is, was the damage a side effect of their hunting instincts? Or did they destroy what we had already abandoned? Knowing that might tell us something useful about their behavior..._

_So far, none of the buildings I've found could conceivably be what I'm looking for. The dimensions are all wrong, for one, but just to be sure I've been comparing the exteriors to the descriptions in our records. This seems to have been a residential area for the most part. Still, seeing signs of the city that used to be here shows I'm headed in the right direction._

* * *

As Pyrrha made her way silently through the forest, something in the corner of her eye caught her attention--a pale spot in the gloom. Cautiously, she pressed herself against the trunk of a tree, and stilled herself as best she could as she watched the patch of white for any sign of movement.

Nothing.

If it were the bone plating of some massive Grimm, she would have expected some movement, if only to the rhythm of its own breath. Then again, a Sabyr or some other creature that relied on stealth could easily control its breathing well enough to hide such movement--Pyrrha was doing it herself at this very moment, the rising and falling of her chest and shoulders almost imperceptible. So it could still be a threat. 

But it could also be what she was looking for: the remains of a building, with walls of white marble. Slowly and carefully, not taking her eyes off the white spot in the distance, she reached up to her goggles and checked the time.

418:48. Eight days into her journey. Eight to ten days from landing site to destination. It wasn't a sure thing, but it was worth looking into.

Pyrrha crept between the trees. Even as she drew closer, and could make out enough details to see it was in fact a building, she didn't change her pace, didn't let her guard down. It was almost another hour before she reached the structure. It was enormous, dwarfing every other building she had found in this jungle, rivaling even some of the upper class manors back in Vale. And she couldn't even see the entire building; the ground beneath it seemed to have shifted or collapsed, causing one corner to sink below the forest floor, and the entire building to tilt to an angle. Despite this, the walls seemed to have held up fairly well, though where they were not covered with moss she could see a web of hairline fractures running through them, along with a sizeable hole in the roof. Black stains marred the white stone; since they seemed to be concentrated near the cracks, she wondered if they were some sort of mold or lichen growing within the walls.

Pyrrha reached out a gloved hand, running her fingertips over the stone. On some gut level, she had expected the marble to be smooth, like the polished floors and columns she had encountered in some of Vale's more lavish residences. But she knew that even marble lost its finish over time. Pyrrha circled the building, looking for an entrance. Or, more accurately, she was looking for a carving or a relief over the entrance: a shield marked with seven stars.

As she made her way towards the sunken corner, seeing the damage become more and more severe as she reached that point, she found what must have been the top of a doorframe, wide enough for a massive set of double doors. The thick rim at the top of the frame was cracked, resulting in a crooked, uneven opening, and this part of the building was sunken so deep into the ground that she would have to crawl to get in. But, more importantly, above the door...

_Something_ had been carved there. Even with the wall cracked and the stone eroded after centuries of exposure, she could see where something had protruded at least an inch from the smooth surface. She bent down to examine it further, running her hands carefully over it, hoping her fingers would catch something her eyes wouldn't in the dark. When she found her way to one of the less worn stretches of stone, she found an indentation that seemed a bit too even to be pure erosion. It seemed to be roughly triangular; it could have been the point of a star.

At the very least, it warranted further investigation. Pyrrha crouched down, peering into the interior. It was darker than the forest around it; the hole in the roof must have been obscured by interior walls. She would have to use one of her flares--but before that, she wanted to get far enough inside the building that it couldn't be seen from the jungle. Of course, if there were any Grimm inside, she would be revealing herself to them, but either way it was a risk. So, for that matter, was every step Pyrrha took on Remnant; if she wasn't prepared, she wouldn't have become a Huntress.

Pyrrha took her shield from her back and slid it carefully through the doorway, finding a slope of moist earth rather than a sharp drop; it must have poured through the opening over the centuries. Next she slid her javelin through, then her satchel. Finally, Pyrrha laid down on her belly and squirmed through the hole herself. It was a tight fit, and she alternated between stone scraping against her back and mud smearing across her front.

There was a faint sensation of pins and needles where the grime coated her bare shoulders, but the residual toxins in the soil were too diluted to do any lasting harm when they were only absorbed through her skin. Still, it was enough to leave her breathing a little more heavily, her heart beating a little bit faster, her hands a little bit unsteady as she gathered up her things. Once she had everything, she got to her feet, sidled away from the door--moving carefully in the pitch black, sliding her feet without lifting them so she couldn't trip on any surprises--and leaned her back against the wall. She reached up to scrape as much of the quickly drying dirt off her shoulders as she could, then dug one of three flares from her satchel. She waited until her knees had stopped shaking to light it.

That was a mistake.

In the cold blue light of the flare, Pyrrha only caught a glimpse of the room she was in--high ceiling, several other doorways leading into other parts of the structure--before her eyes were drawn to the massive mound of black and white nestled among the the crumbling remains of furniture which littered the lower corner of the broken room. As soon as her light fell on it, the creature shuddered and began to stir from its slumber with a hiss. Pyrrha glanced back at the opening she had come through, but knew that it would take her too long to crawl through. She turned her attention back towards the Grimm as a large serpentine head arose from the coiled creature, followed by a second--one black, one white, each glaring at Pyrrha with hateful red eyes.

Pyrrha chucked her flare at the creature, which roared and shrank away from the light. It wouldn't really deter the Grimm for long, but it would buy her a second or two. More importantly, Pyrrha needed her hand free for her weapon. She peppered the creature with rifle shots; not enough to do much harm to a King Taijitu, but hopefully enough to keep it off balance and fighting rashly. As the massive serpent slithered towards her, Pyrrha jumped backward up the slope of the floor, her retreat spurring its instincts to pursue. By the time her back was against the wall, the Grimm was surging towards her at breakneck speed, and both heads rearing back for a lunging bite.

Pyrrha threw her shield at the white head, bouncing it off the bony plates on the creature's forehead--a brief distraction, delaying its attack by an instant while the black head shot at her with the speed of a bullet. But it's trajectory was predictable, and without both its heads striking in unison to corner her, she could not only sidestep the attack, but grip her blade in two hands and swing into the creature's gaping maw.

The impact, even taken at an angle, even when she was only bracing herself enough for her javelin to cut into the creature rather than simply being shoved back, was incredible. Her entire body ached from the strain as she lopped the top half of the Taijitu's head cleanly from its body. Her arm was almost too numb to catch her shield as it bounced back to her hand. She would have liked to take a break and catch her breath, but there was another head to deal with, and the momentary reprieve she had bought with the shield throw was up. Pyrrha leaped over the limp lower jaw of the black head as the white head crashed into the stone beside her.

The Taijitu lifted itself from the shattered marble, rearing for another strike, Pyrrha took a few more potshots at it--propelling herself back as well, gaining more distance. Now that she was clear of the fallen head and had more room to maneuver, she could more easily use its next lunge to create an opening to counterattack. As the Grimm's head shot towards her, Pyrrha's toe touched down on the smooth marble.

And her heel caught on a thick root she hadn't seen. Pyrrha tripped, her feet slipping out from under her as the massive Grimm bore down on her. She was in freefall, with no time to find her footing and get out of its path. Even with her reflexes, all she could do was bring her shield up.

Pyrrha was slammed to the ground, trying desperately to hold the Taijitu at bay even as the air was knocked from her lungs. She could hear a creaking, metallic groan as her shield slowly bent and collapsed under the tremendous pressure of its powerful jaws. As Pyrrha tried to muster up the strength to push back against it, just enough to slip out from under it, two of its fangs tore into her shoulder. The pain was almost completely lost in the shock of the Grimm's venom in her veins.

in an instant, a feverish heat began to spread through her body. She could hear the pounding of her heart ringing in her ears, and her breathing came in shallow, ragged gasps. Her body was trembling and her mind was swimming; it was hard to move and harder to focus. But even though she had never been bitten like this before, she was trained. She was prepared. And she was able to focus on one undeniable truth, that kept everything else in focus.

Either she finished this now, or she herself was finished.

Gripping her weapon in a shaking hand, she lifted the javelin and stabbed. She stabbed up into its mouth, again and again, no precision, no leverage, only the knowledge that the inside of its mouth was less protected than the outside, and the desperate hope that her blade would find its brain. Black sludge poured down her arm, but she barely noticed.

The Taijitu hissed as its mouth closed little by little, tearing the wounds in Pyrrha's shoulder a little wider. The teeth scraping against the bottom of her breastplate told her she would be dealing with wounds to her abdomen as well if she didn't hurry. Her bracer was beginning to scrape against its teeth with every stab, and she was beginning to lose hope. But, finally, she felt something yield against her stab, and the Taijitu gave a muffled scream as the tip of her javelin erupted from its eye socket.

The pressure of its jaws faded, though she was still trapped beneath its massive form After a few more seconds, it started to dissolve. The crushing weight slowly diminished, replaced by a wave of toxic sludge that coated her, seeping into her wounds, soaking into her skin. She screwed her eyes shut and tilted her head back, trying to ensure that none of the ichor got near her mask or goggles--if they happened not to be water-tight against her skin after the struggle, the last thing she needed was any of this getting into her mouth, nose, or eyes. She reached up, plunging trembling hands into the rapidly dissolving flesh of the creature, until she found the bone plate on its head. She shoved it away with all her strength, until it sloughed off to the side. She could hear it eventually reaching the marble, scraping across the stone before coming to a halt. She pried the crumpled remains of her ruined shield from her arm and sent that clattering down the stone as well.

After that, all she could do was wait it out. Eventually, she lay splayed on her back in a puddle of black sludge, her chest heaving with each panting breath. Slowly, she began to shift her arms, trying to prop herself up on her elbows, but managed only a rather lopsided position--which she couldn't maintain for long, not with her shoulders shaking and her elbows slipping in the ichor. Taking a deep breath, she pushed as best she could against the floor, and started herself rolling down the slant of the room, towards the harsh light of her still-burning flare. She reached the bottom only marginally more bruised and sore than she had been at the top. She lay still for a few more moments to catch her breath, then pushed herself up into a sitting position and crawled towards the nearest wall, leaning her back against it.

Digging in her satchel, Pyrrha pulled out a piece of cloth and began cleaning herself up. At first she dabbed delicately at the ichor, trying not to rub it into her skin or wounds. But she soon gave up on that; delicacy was for a smear of mud or a few drops of stray ichor, not this flood she had been caught in. She began to scrub more roughly, wincing as she reached the wounds on her shoulder. But honestly, those were hardly any worse than the rest of her--her skin felt tender, sensitive, and she couldn't tell if it was from the bruising or the venom.

Her body was still feverishly hot, and she was starting to sweat profusely--heavily enough to thin the ichor from a viscous sludge to an oily liquid, although she worried that might just make her skin absorb it faster. Even the exertion of cleaning it off had her gasping for air with heavy, trembling breaths, and her heart was pounding so hard her chest hurt from it. Setting aside the soiled cloth, Pyrrha took a fresh one and resumed scrubbing her wound, looking down at her shoulder. Perhaps it was the harsh light of the flare, but her skin--where she had cleared away enough slime to see it--looked paler than usual. But whether or not she was imagining that, the pronounced pattern of black veins that stood out sharply beneath her skin was no illusion.

Her breathing quickened to an almost frantic pace. Discarding the soiled rag, she pulled her satchel into her lap and dug through it with trembling hands, already knowing she wouldn't find what she was looking for. Finally she pulled out a round metal tin. She turned it over in her hands a few times, then pried open the lid to reveal a fine white powder that sparkled slightly in the light. She set that to the side, not trusting herself not to spill it, and began to unbuckle her breastplate. She struggled with the clasps for several minutes, fingers still shaking from the poison, but eventually managed to set aside the heavy metal plate. She started to unbuckle a bracer, but decided against it and instead rolled her shoulder length gloves down past her elbows. Then she began the laborious process of doing the same with her bodysuit.

Once she was bare down to her knees, she reached back for powder, dipping her fingers into it and beginning to spread it across her arms and shoulders, wincing as it burned against her wounds. The salts wouldn't help with the heat of her body, but they could at least hold the sweating at bay. She caked the powder thickly along her armpits. She coated her forehead, her ears, and the sliver of exposed face between her goggles and mask. She worked it through the tangled, oily mess of her hair down to her scalp, spread it across the back of her neck, and as much as she could worked it beneath the edges of her gorget to coat her throat.

Pyrrha spread the salts across her stomach, working her way up to apply a thick layer to the undersides of her breasts; as her fingers fell on them, her breath hitched and she couldn't suppress a shiver that ran down her spine. Pyrrha bit down on her lip and hurriedly coated the rest of her breasts, before moving on down to her sides, as much of her back as she could reach, and her hips. Eventually, her fingers reached her groin.

**"Ah!"**

The clinical, business-like contact of her fingertips sent a jolt coursing through her, tensing the muscles of her thighs, back, and shoulders as her mouth snapped open and a sharp, strangled yelp escaped unbidden from her throat. It was the first time in over a week Pyrrha had heard her own voice--any voice. She bit down on her lip as she continued applying the powder between her legs, coating her groin and thighs thoroughly, trying to ignore the moisture building inside her, but she couldn't quite silence herself.

**"Nnn... hnnmm..."**

She finished coating her groin and continued spreading the salts down her legs, but though the sensations jolting through her ceased, the heat and tension that had built up in her gut did not fade. And they began to rise again as she reached her rear, her body trembling with tension as she applied a thick layer of powder to the crevice between her buttocks.

She reached back into the tin and found it empty. That would have to do; she was already using more aluminum salts than she had rationed out without opening a whole second tin. She pulled her clothes back up and redonned her breastplate. Only then did she stop clenching her jaw, and with it the rest of the tension in her body. She slumped back against the wall, her breath coming in loud, ragged gasps. She waited for her breathing to slow down, for her shoulders and chest to stop heaving dramatically, for the burning heat in her gut to subside, but it didn't seem like any of it would be subsiding soon.

So, Pyrrha got to her feet, unsteady though they were, and scooped up her flare. She didn't have time to recover; she still had a building to investigate.


	3. Breaking Point

_Pyrrha Nikos, Expedition 4, Day 9_  
_Time Until Extraction: 412 hours_

_I investigated some ruins that were a close match to our records. On further inspection it turned out not to be the right building, but based on the similarities of architecture and iconography, I think I've at least reached the campus. Going by its size, layout, and the remnants of bookshelves I found inside, I'd guess it was the main university library. So I'm close. Barring any further delays, I should be able to reach my destination within the next thirty hours or so._

_Speaking of which, I have fallen behind schedule. More than half a night, in fact. I had to take down a King Taijitu that had nested in the library, and due to_

Pyrrha paused, still panting heavily. She stared down at the page, pen hovering over the same blank spot, for several minutes.

_due to a regrettable error in judgment on my part, I was bitten, and had to sacrifice my shield to avoid a more severe injury. And I've gone through all of my cleaning rags, either soiling them or tearing them up for bandages, since I prioritized hydration when packing supplies and didn't bring any gauze or antiseptic. It's a little rough, but I can handle it. Every Huntress I know has endured this, and worse, and I know I'm incredibly fortunate to have made it more than a year into my career without serious exposure to the corruption._

_After careful deliberation, I decided to head above the canopy as soon as I finished my investigation of the building. I'll recuperate here for the remainder of the night, and rest through the day. Of course, the aura contamination is going to have to wait until I get back to Vale, but by the time I'm ready to set out tomorrow night, at least the chemical component of the toxin should have run its course._

* * *

The toxin still had not run its course.

Pyrrha slumped against a tree, trying to keep her heavy breaths as quiet as she could. She reached up a hand to her goggles to check the time. 393:24. Almost a day since she had been bitten, but she was still feeling the effects. They had lessened considerably, but she was still feverish, and it was taking its toll on her stamina. Her body wasn't as sensitive as it had been the night before, but over several hours of walking, the subtle shifting of the fabric between her legs had built up a rather distracting sensation.

It wasn't anything she couldn't endure, but it was definitely slowing her down. It didn't seem like it would be enough for her to miss her extraction, though. Not unless it stayed this bad for the next two weeks, which flew in the face of centuries of Huntresses' experiences and research. And even if that somehow did happen, there wasn't much she could do to change the outcome. Even if she abandoned her mission and turned around now, at this pace she might not make it back to her landing site in time.

As far as Pyrrha was concerned, her only option was forward.

She crept through the jungle, flinching at every distant growl or groan. It wasn't as though she ever wanted to fight the Grimm if she could help it, but right now a confrontation would take a lot of out of her. Would she have to retreat to the treetops again and lose the rest of the night's progress? Would she even have the strength for that? She had no intention of finding out. It was more important than ever that she avoid the Grimm.

So when she heard a loud crash a ways off, she froze in place, all her attention on the sound. A few seconds later, a creaking sound came from the same direction--a bit closer, she thought--and then gave way to a rustling. Things breaking, things being pushed out of the way... something big was coming from that direction.

Pyrrha ran a hand across her uninjured shoulder, then slipped her fingers under her arm. Her gas mask may have prevented her smelling herself, but she could still check for moisture. There were plenty of Grimm who could pinpoint her by scent alone, even from that distance. But her salts were doing their job well enough; she wasn't sweating enough to attract anything but maybe a Beowolf, and even if one had gotten big enough to make such noises, they rarely traveled so noisily.

She couldn't quite be sure about the moisture that had built up between her legs. Grimm were drawn to that scent as well--perhaps even more so. But she really wasn't that wet, and she had a hard time imagining the odor was so strong as to permeate her suit and waft a quarter of a mile through the stale, humid air. Most likely, whatever was coming, wasn't coming for her.

If it wasn't already on her trail, it would be foolish to draw attention to herself by fleeing. She would probably just run out of stamina and get caught if she tried. Instead, she decided to hide, slipping into the thick underbrush as silently as she could. As the approaching creature drew close enough that she could hear each heavy footfall, she turned towards the sound to scan the shadows for its glowing eyes. It wasn't hard to spot the four motes of glowing light; once she knew where to look, she was able to more easily recognize the boney plates that outlined its hulking form, particularly the two curling tusks at its jaw.

As she watched the massive Boarbatusk stomp through the forest with little caution, its shoulder crashed carelessly into a tree, but the creature plowed on, neither slowed nor diverted from its course as the thick trunk splintered against its skin. With a creak, the entire tree began to topple in the Boarbatusk's wake. Without taking her eyes off the creature, Pyrrha crept backwards, taking up a crouched position between a cluster of thick tree trunks. As the Grimm drew closer, she took a deep breath, as quietly as she could manage, and held it.

Of course, there was a risk to that; if it took too long in passing, if it hung around for any reason, then the sound when she inevitably had to let it out would give her away. But in her current state, there wasn't much middle ground between heavy panting and not breathing at all. Better a risk of discovery than a certainty.

As the Boarbatusk drew closer, Pyrrha could better judge the angle of its approach. Although it seemed to be avoiding head-on collisions with trees in its path, it otherwise preferred to leave a wake of destruction than veer from its course. That made its path fairly easy to judge, and to Pyrrha's relief, it seemed it would pass her by. But as the beast approached, that relief faded; the Boarbatusk was starting to slow down.

_No, no, go away!_

The massive creature came to a stop as it passed by Pyrrha's hiding place, standing just five or six yards from the Huntress. She could hear gurgling grunts from the depths of its throat as it lowered its head to the ground, rooting through the mud with heavy snuffling sounds. She flinched as its head reared up into the air with a squeal, nostrils flaring as it tossed its snout from side to side, sniffing loudly. Pyrrha hunkered down a little further into the underbrush, her entire body tense.

_Go away, go away!_

After a few seconds ticked by like centuries, the Grimm dropped its head with a loud huff, shaking itself from snout to tail, and began walking again down its previous course. But even when the creature's footfalls faded into the distance, Pyrrha stayed on high alert, her entire body coiled like a spring even as her lungs burned for air. Only after several seconds without a crash or a rustle of it plowing through some obstacle, did Pyrrha let out a gasp of air and slump back against the tree behind her.

She had just enough time to process that the texture against her shoulders, what she had taken for a layer of moss coating the trunk, was too oily and bristly to be any such thing, before the "tree" she was leaning against moved, expanding with a long, slow breath that contrasted her short, desperate gasps and gulps. Shaking, she looked up into two burning red eyes that stared down at her.

As the creature gave a low growl, the trees--or rather, arms--on either side of her began to lift up off the ground. Out of breath and caught unaware, Pyrrha tried to scramble to her feet, desperate just to get enough solid footing to gain some distance. As the creature took a deep breath, the swelling of its chest pushed against her back, and she let it roll her forward, out of a sitting position and into an awkward crouch. The moment she felt ground beneath her feet, she pushed off, springing over the bushes ahead of her. The thorny branches below scraped against her breastplate and bodysuit as she passed low over them, but she paid no heed to the handful of shallow cuts across her thighs. 

She did, however, pay a great deal of attention to a massive hand closing around her right ankle; her flying leap came to an abrupt halt that strained the joints of her leg, and she was slammed down to the forest floor. The beast's grip loosened slightly as she hit the ground, and despite having the wind knocked out of her again, she squirmed and kicked and managed to pull her ankle free. Without stopping for an instant, she began to crawl forward on her elbows, ignoring the dangling mask that was beginning to fall from her face and heedless of the web of cuts and scratches etched across her exposed skin. Once again she felt a hand starting to close on her leg, and as she hastily pulled away, she rolled onto her back to at least see what she was fighting.

A hunched, hulking form loomed over her. Even with its knuckles resting against the ground, the beast was ten or twelve feet tall at the shoulder, and nearly as broad. Despite its coarse fur and quadrupedal stance, the skull-like mask of bone over its face was unnervingly human. The Beringel roared down at her, flecks of spittle splattering across her face as she drew her blade; now that her mask was dangling off the side of her face, held in place more by the tangles of her hair than its own straps, a drop of the Grimm's saliva fell against the corner of her mouth. Pyrrha could feel it beginning to tingle, and she pressed her lips tightly together.

The massive ape-like creature lifted a hand and reached for Pyrrha once again; this time, she struck back, taking two slashes at its palm with her blade. While her position on her back didn't give her much leverage, the Beringel did withdraw its hand slightly, though it appeared more thoughtful than injured. With its hand lifted, Pyrrha scrambled to get out from under it, but had to retreat as it slammed its hand back down. There was a painful tug as several strands of her long red hair were caught under its hand and torn from her scalp as she rolled away; after being caked in so much sweat and grime, her bun was a little more unruly every time she redid it, and in the midst of the fight it was coming almost completely undone.

With Pyrrha boxed in between its arms, the Beringel lifted a leg as if to stomp on her; hastily, she lifted her arms and, with all her might, drove her blade towards its knee. The Grimm roared as the blade tore into its flesh, staggering forward. But it wasn't much of a reprieve; while it failed to stomp down with the bone-crushing force it had intended, its foot still fell unsteadily onto her thigh and hip. With the tremendous weight of its towering form, even that clumsy step was enough to pin her in place.

She hacked at the Grimm as best she could from this position, landing glancing blows against its knee, arms, and gut, and once again it pulled away--not merely its hand, but this time its entire torso, lifting itself into an almost entirely upright position as it leaned onto its haunches. Pyrrha grit her teeth as the shift in its posture put more weight on her leg; she could feel her bones beginning to strain from the pressure. It didn't look like she would have to endure the weight for long, though; the Beringel was raising both hand above its head, balling them together into a brutal club of bony fists.

Pyrrha couldn't take a blow like that. With her armor, she might survive, but she would be in no condition to continue the fight. And she couldn't get away, pinned under the creature's foot like this. She only had one shot that she could see. Frantically, she prodded the ground beneath her with her elbow, trying to find the firmest spot in the mud. There was not enough strength in her arm, or in her whole body, to stop or even slow the Beringel, but if the ground held, then she only needed the strength to adjust its angle.

As the Beringel swung its fists, bearing the full weight of its body down on her, she extended her weapon into its spear form. As the blade extended towards the Beringel's throat, she could see it stiffen, trying to hold back its attack, but its momentum was too great. If anything, it was just lessening the force of the blow that would come down on her. And the blow did, indeed, come down on her; even as Pyrrha's blade plunged into the creature's chin, scraping against its jawbone and plunging into the cavity of its skull, the two fists crashed down on her stomach with a deafening clang.

Stars exploded in her eyes, and the world went white, every sound but her own body reduced to a distant ringing. The heat and scent of the jungle were all a distant memory. Her mind was shutting everything else out to process the pain. Pyrrha felt her mouth snap open, sure she was screaming--but what little air was in her lungs rushed out too quickly to make any sound more than a strangled, choking cough. She felt something thick and wet spray from her lips and dribble down her chin, but she couldn't taste whether it was saliva, vomit, or blood. She tried desperately to suck in air, to replenish the breath that had been knocked so violently out of her, but her lungs wouldn't respond.

It felt like hours before the jungle started to come back into focus, but it couldn't have been more than a few seconds. It couldn't have been, because if it had been longer, the Grimm certainly would have moved more. Because it was still definitely moving. It was gripping Pyrrha's spear in both hands, trying to dislodge the weapon from its chin, howling in pain with each slight tug. Weakly, Pyrrha lifted her head, trying to see if its foot was still pinning her down, half-dreading the sight of her own torso she would catch in the process, afraid she might look up to see her innards splattered across the forest floor.

She was instead confronted with the lower half of her breastplate completely caved in from the blow; as if the sight of it was a reminder to feel something, her stomach suddenly ached where the craterous dent in the metal dug into her gut. And the Beringel's leg was still in place, still pinning her down. Not that she had the strength to flee even if the creature weren't standing on her. Even when it finally dislodged the spear from its head and let it clatter to the ground at Pyrrha's side, her numb, clumsy hands couldn't grasp it, let alone lift lift it. The Beringel glared down at her, ichor pouring down its mask from an empty eye socket, while the eye she hadn't put out burned with all the more malice.

Pyrrha took some bitter satisfaction in the grievous injury she had inflicted, but it didn't change anything. That had been her last chance, and she had failed. She had lost.

The Grimm was clearly aware of its victory; its fur bristled with excitement, and as it stepped off of her to assume a low, wide stance, something between its legs began to swell. What had been a slight bulge, nearly flush with its body and lost in its thick fur, rose up engorged, forming a shaft as thick as her arm, and nearly as long. Pyrrha tried to move her legs, a futile effort to run away, but she couldn't do more than flail weakly. The Beringel reached down and closed a massive hand around her thigh, lifting her lower body up off the forest floor. As it spread her legs--one up in the air, one dangling limply down below--the Grimm shifted its hips, and its hard cock smacked down on her exposed groin. The rush of heat that jolted through her body seemed to shock her lungs into working again, and she sucked in air with a loud, throaty gasp. Her breathing came fast and shallow, her heaving chest straining against the deformed breastplate, as the Beringel gripped her hip in its other hand, holding her steady as it lined up its pelvis.

When the massive cock tore through her bodysuit and plunged deep into her pussy, Pyrrha screamed.

Despite the pain, her body offered little resistance to the Grimm's intrusion; she was already slick with sweat and arousal, and the creature's shaft, like the rest of its body, was coated in its own oily secretions. As the Beringel began shifting her back and forth, pumping her body against its groin rather than moving its own hips, more and more of that oil was rubbed into the inside of her pussy, and the mucous membrane within dutifully sucked it up. The familiar toxin burned through her veins; her body grew hotter, her pussy wetter, and she was painfully aware of the coarse bristles of hair that seemed to scrape against every inch of her insides. Her screams were beginning to die down, for want of oxygen more than anything, but Pyrrha was mortified to hear a tinge of pleasure in the strained gasps that escaped her lips every time the beast's cock plunged into her.

**"Ah! Ahh! Aha! Ahn, aah, ahh..."**

Each intrusion was deeper than the last, and even though her passage expanded in arousal to accommodate it, the knobby head of the Grimm's penis battered painfully against her cervix each time. Finally it buried itself all the way to the root inside of her, and stopped there. With her hips pressed firmly against the Beringel's, Pyrrha's jaw clenched, her entire body tensing to the point of trembling from the unrelenting pressure.

As the creature began to shift its grip on her, in turn shifting and grinding the massive shaft lodged inside of her, she screwed her eyes shut, and drool began to bubble up from between her clenched teeth, foamy trails of it running down the sides of her cheeks. The Grimm let go of her thigh and laid her shoulders back against the ground and leaned forward, its baleful face blocking out the canopy above as it planted its hand down on her shoulder and upper arm. With Pyrrha now braced against the ground, it pulled its hips back.

The Grimm slammed its cock into her, tip to root in one rough thrust, and her mouth and eyes snapped open. Her ragged cries resumed, their pitch slipping little by little towards throaty moans. She found herself grasping at the ground, fingers scrabbling against the mud and moss, as if a handhold could stop her being swept away in the tide of overwhelming sensations.

And that was when her fingers fell on metal. Her weapon was right there beneath her fingers, where the Grimm had discarded it. If only she could pick it up, then maybe, maybe she could get out of this.

That sudden, desperate hope was a lifeline, grounding Pyrrha amidst the swirling turmoil of pain, fear, pleasure and shame that threatened to consume her. She tried, with little success, to tune everything else out and focus on her hand, even closing her eyes in a desperate attempt to shut off a little bit of distracting stimulus. There was no way she could block out the feverish sensations that burned throughout her body, nor the humiliating moans and hideous wet squelching sounds, but could keep it together just enough to move her hand. She wrapped one finger at a time around the haft of the spear, then tightened her grasp until her knuckles hurt.

Once she was confident her grip was secure, Pyrrha cracked open an eye, hoping that the Beringel hadn't noticed that she'd armed herself. It didn't seem to be responding, at least; with its eye gone, its field of vision must have narrowed, and it was too caught up in its own desire to pay much mind to what its prey was actually doing. Judging by how quickly its thrusts were beginning to come, Pyrrha guessed it was on the verge of climax. If she had to be honest, she wasn't that far from the edge herself. The thought of it made her stomach turn, but she couldn't dwell on that.

She had her weapon. She had the element of surprise. She still didn't have an opening, or even a plan. She only had one more shot at this. Should she try under the chin again? It could work in theory, but after her last failure she didn't have the heart to risk it. The gut, maybe? Not at this angle, not with its hand pinning down her upper arm. She could try for its heart, but maneuvering between the plating on its chest and the rib cage beneath required more precision than she trusted herself with just now. The satisfying thought of lopping off its penis crossed her mind, but the Grimm's retaliation would surely be fatal.

It had to be the throat. It was unarmored, it was close, it was the most instantly fatal spot on the Beringel's whole body. With her mind made up, Pyrrha lifted a trembling hand, looking for the perfect opening as her body reached a feverish pitch...

She winced as the massive cock inside her swelled up even further, straining against the muscles of her pussy. With a triumphant roar, the Beringel flooded her cunt with an explosion of thick, searing liquid. As her body soaked up the toxin contained within--more concentrated than the blood or even the venom of the Taijitu--the rush of heat and pleasure sent her tumbling, rocketing over the edge of her own climax.

Every muscle in her body tensed. Her mouth opened so wide her jaw ached, but if she made a sound she couldn't hear it. She couldn't hear anything but the blood rushing through her own ears as her eyes rolled back in her head.

Eventually she went limp in the creature's grasp. The spear slipped from her grasp, forgotten, all thoughts of resistance burned away in a wave of white hot pleasure.


	4. Enduring the Trials

Pyrrha had no idea how long the beast violated her. How long she tumbled through a delirious haze of lust. She had some awareness of the pleasure ebbing slowly, only to surge up again each time the Grimm came inside of her, flooding her anew with its toxic essence. She could vaguely feel her body being turned over and rearranged in its hands as the Beringel explored different ways of fucking its plaything.

Eventually what started to clear the haze from her mind was an absence--the Grimm's cock sliding out of her, the hands leaving her hips and letting her drop to her belly in the mud. A pleading, pitiful croon escaped her lips as the beast withdrew, but she was still too lost in the heady fog to feel any shame for the sound. She lay whimpering and confused in the dirt, trying to make sense of the sudden loss of sensation. As she tried to take in her surroundings, she thought she could hear roaring, growling...

The growling was starting to come closer, and although her eyes wouldn't quite focus yet, the pair of glowing red eyes that drifted into her field of vision drew her in. She began to make out the elongated head and bony mask of a Beowolf drawing close. She felt its hot breath against her skin as it sniffed at her face, then turned to nudge her shoulder, beginning to roll her on her back.

Then it yelped as it was dragged away from her. That seemed to bring the world into focus, though her body was still burning and her head was still swimming. She looked up to see the Beringel wrestling with a handful of Beowolves, roaring and baring its teeth as they snarled at it. Finally Pyrrha understood what was happening. The Grimm were fighting over her.

It wasn't at all uncommon; though Pyrrha had never experienced it herself, it came up again and again in accounts of past Huntresses and their exploits. The Grimm were all born of the same corruption, all dedicated to the same purpose of defilement, but their drive was so single-minded that many saw even other Grimm as obstacles to their goal. Some were social enough to cooperate, usually within the same species, but it seemed the Beringel did not like to share, and the Beowolves were unwilling to wait. 

Pyrrha struggled to get up off the forest floor, but her legs were still too shaky even to rise to her knees. Instead she flailed around in the moss, looking for her spear. She wasn't going to get another chance like this. Many a Huntress had used just such a moment of distraction to get out of this kind of situation, turning the tides, or at least slipping away, while the Grimm fought over their prize.

_Prize._

Pyrrha's gut twisted as the word crossed her mind. When other Huntresses wrote about these moments, it was with a sense of relief, at a reprieve from the abuse and the opportunity to escape. But there was no relief to be found in watching these monsters fight for the right to defile her. This could be an opportunity to escape, but it might only be the opportunity to dread what was coming.

Her fingers found her weapon, still laying at her side, and she gripped it like a lifeline.

The three Beowolves circled the larger Grimm, avoiding its grasping hands. Now and then it managed to grab hold of one or another, and the other two would lunge in, savagely clawing and biting until the Beringel let go of their ally to drive them off. They were aided in this endeavor by the creature's clumsy limp and its narrowed field of vision. But at the same time, their hit and run tactics allowed only for light, nipping bites that could not get through the Beringel's thick, bristling fur, let alone deal serious damage to its dense musculature.

Finally one of the Beowolves decided to make a more committed attack, diving into the Beringel's blind spot and biting down on its wounded leg. It shook its head, tearing the flesh still further. But even as the Beringel fell to one knee, it was reaching down for the creature that had so audaciously attacked it, and it caught hold of the smaller beast with both hands. The other Beowolves tried to rescue their ally, but the larger Grimm would not be deterred when it had its enemy so firmly in its grasp. With a roar, the Beringel lifted the Beowolf above its head, stretching the beast's body between its hands. Bones creaked and cracked until the Beowolf went limp.

With a triumphant howl, the Beringel wielded the corpse like a club against the remaining Beowolves; the first was caught completely unprepared and sent sprawling, while the second jumped away. The Beringel turned its attention to the one it had knocked to the ground, beating it relentlessly with the dead body while the last Beowolf slunk away into the jungle. The Beringel continued its vengeful attacks until both the body it was holding and the body it was beating dissolved into black sludge. The Beringel dropped the last few chunks of bone that clung to its hands with a satisfied snort.

As it started to turn around, just as its eye fell on Pyrrha, doubled over, shoulders heaving, but still on her feet, the javelin went into its throat. It stumbled forward, reaching up its fingers to examine the weapon now protruding from its neck, and as black ichor poured down over the bone plates on its chest, it fell forward. Its impact with the ground drove the tip of the spear out through the back of its neck. Pyrrha stared at it for a long time, still half expecting it to move, to rise up again, and drag her back to her doom. Only when she could see its body starting to melt into ichor did she allow her trembling legs to buckle, and fell back to her hands and knees.

She knelt there for a minute or two, until a distant hoot echoed through the forest and caught her ear. Her fingers tensed, and she dug frantically at the ground, tearing up handfuls of mud and moss. She smeared them across her groin and thighs, caking herself in grime, ignoring the tingling as the trace amounts of toxin seeped into her, trying to ignore the burning desire that kindled with every touch to her sensitve flesh. It was better than letting that scent draw more Grimm to her location. And it was better than walking around with cum still drizzling from between her legs.

With that most pressing detail taken care of, Pyrrha reached up to unbuckle her breastplate. As soon as it started to loosen, and the pressure of the dented metal digging into her stomach was relieved, Pyrrha took a deep, gasping breath, sputtering as she let it back out. She discarded the ruined piece of armor, and began searching around the ground for her mask. It was not too far away from where she was kneeling; after an examination, she found that the straps weren't broken. It wasn't exactly clean, and her hands were too filthy to do much about it, but she still did her best to wipe it down and put it back on.

With that done, she struggled to her feet, stumbled over to her spear, and used it as a cane as she hobbled back into the jungle. Her eyes darted from tree to tree, and she flinched at every distant sound. Finally, though, she found a tree with a trunk large enough to rise above the canopy, and to support her weight in the upper boughs. She took out her climbing hooks and began to make her way up the trunk. It took far longer than usual, and more than a few times she felt her fingers start to slip or her arms start to give out. In those moments, she thought she might plummet to her death. But, finally, she found a branch big enough to sit on, and got settled in.

She was still and silent for a few seconds. Then, her shoulders began to shake. She wrapped her arms around herself, fingers digging into her shoulders as she began to sob-silently at first, then with low, quivering moans. She reached up to lift the goggles up onto her forehead, grinding the heels of her palms against her eyes, heedless of the toxic filth she was rubbing into them as she tried to stop the tears streaming down her face.

As the first rays of sunlight stretched across the crimson sky, what fell over Pyrrha could hardly be called sleep; it was sheer exhaustion that had grown too overwhelming to be denied any longer. When her shoulders were too tired to shake, her throat too tired to sob, and her eyes too tired to cry, she finally fell still.

* * *

_Pyrrha Nikos, Expedition 4, Day 11_  
_Time Until Extraction: 374 hours_

_I've fallen farther behind schedule. Almost a whole day this time. While avoiding a Boarbatusk, I got into a disadvantageous position with a Beringel. I was able to dispatch it, but my breastplate is damaged beyond repair, and I had to discard it. The damage to my suit has been extensive as well, though I'm still wearing what's left of it. And I absorbed a lot of toxin._

_I underestimated how long the toxin's effects linger in the system, or maybe how severely it's impacted my aura. Despite all of my studies, I suppose the intensity of a physiological or spiritual effect is hard to convey in words. But now that I have more experience with the toxin, I can make a better estimation, and I should be able to avoid repeating my mistake. Which, as hard as it is to admit, means I'm not ready to move on yet._

_I'm not giving up. I won't let all of this be for nothing. But I can pace myself. I still have more than fifteen days left. If I can get back to full speed, and avoid any more delays, I'm two days at most from my objective, and at most ten days from the landing site. I have three days to recuperate, if I need them. I'll stay here in this tree and wait, for three days, or for the fever to pass._

* * *

Even a forest as dense as this did not completely block out the light of the afternoon sun. Some always trickled down through the branches, and here and there the trees were far enough apart to create gaps in the canopy. Even so, they tended to be small, just a couple of feet at the largest point. In almost two weeks traveling through the jungle, Pyrrha hadn't seen anything like this.

A massive building stood in a clearing, a shaft of daylight washing down over it. Though largely covered in vines, the white marble walls stood firm after what must have been hundreds of years. The roof had not fared quite as well; from where Pyrrha stood, she could see several large holes, including one where it seemed a tree had broken through the foundations and grown up through the building, finally breaking the roof and spreading its branches. But it couldn't have been more than fourty feet high, a sapling compared to the massive trees that dominated the jungle. That the building's foundation had held up so well against centuries of erosion was... unbelievable.

In fact, Pyrrha wasn't sure she did believe it. She was exhausted, maybe to the point of hallucination. She really should have climbed back above the canopy and gone to sleep hours ago. But, after two days of forcing herself to rest, an entire night of fruitless searching had been impossibly frustrating. As much as she was trying to be mindful of her limits, to not make any more careless mistakes, she had rationalized going just a little farther. And then a little farther, and then a little farther, until she had seen the shaft of light, and now...

She approached the building cautiously, rifle at the ready. She moved through the clearing with a wobbly gait, resting her shoulder against the wall of the building as soon as she reached it. The worst of the toxin had passed for sure; the last time she had applied her salts, Pyrrha had been relieved to see that the stark black veins that had stood out against her pallid skin had all but faded to their normal faint blue, and a bit of color was beginning to return to her. More than that, the feverish heat of her body had come down considerably. This, she guessed, was probably as well as she was going to get until she got back to Vale for proper treatment of her aura.

That didn't really mean she was well; she was still too sensitive, and even through the coating of grime, her stimulation of her thighs rubbing together was beginning to get to her. With every few steps, she left a damp spot in the mud as liquid dripped slowly from between her legs. But this was still at a level she could endure. She was more concerned about the scent trail.

Pyrrha made her way towards the crumbling stone steps steps leading up to the opening that had probably once housed a massive double door, but now was blocked only by a curtain of vines. Her eyes were fixed above the frame, looking for the seven-star shield, or even some remnant of it. There seemed like there might have been some sort of change in texture there, but the plantlife coating the wall was too thick to be sure. Walking slowly up the steps, she drew the weapon from her hip, extending it into its javelin form, and reached up to clear away the dark vines. As she did, something came loose, and Pyrrha stepped quickly to the side as it crashed down onto the steps beside her. She glanced down to see a large piece of metal--too tarnished to even guess the material, but very clearly wrought as a star. 

She looked up, and even though the surface was worn away, there was definitely a carving over the door. It was roughly shaped like a shield, and adorned with four more metal stars. And there were three discolored indentations--one far brighter than the other two--where it looked like something had been embedded in the shield, but which had fallen away at some point over the centuries. This... this had to be it. This had to be the Conservatory.

Switching her weapon into its rifle form, Pyrrha leaned against the door frame and pushed aside the vines, peering inside. Slowly, she inched her way in, looking around, taking in as much of the room as she could without going more than a few steps from the doorway. Although Grimm would avoid the sunlight in the clearing, there was a chance they had taken refuge from it inside the building. She didn't want a repeat of the incident with the Taijitu.

The afternoon sun that filtered through the crumbling ceiling wasn't much, but after weeks of walking through the forest in the dead of the night, this was more than enough to navigate by. Despite the dense shadows that clouded the corners of the entry room, Pyrrha found it almost soothing.

Still, as relaxing as the ambience was, Pyrrha couldn't afford to take chances with anything leaping out of a dark corner. She pushed through the curtain of vines, but only took two steps into the interior of the room before lighting a flare. The shadows were stripped away in a wave of cold blue light.

Nothing.

Pyrrha slowly made her way through the building, visually clearing each room from the doorway before entering it, rifle ever at the ready. She carefully examined the text of every tarnished plaque and rotting shelves, anything that might give her an idea of where she was, and if she was getting closer to what she had come here for. Finally, she found a cool, musty room, filled wtih dozens of collapsed, crumbling wooden racks. Amidst the rubble were hundreds of dust-covered cylinders, scattered across the floor or nestled in what remained of the racks.

One by one, Pyrrha combed through the little cylinders, each about six inches long and two inches around, carefully clearing away enough dust to examine their condition and look for a classification number. She hadn't learned this entire ancient sorting system, but she had memorized a four digit sequence that would indicate she had what she was looking for. After what must have been hours of meticulous examination, she set the final cylinder into a tidy pile--determining it to be too degraded to contain any useful information. Still, after sorting through everything she could find, she was ready to walk away with several dozen cylinders tucked into her satchel. And that was it. Mission complete.

The flood of relief washed away the tension that had apparently been keeping her on her feet, because it was all she could do to settle herself into a sitting position rather than collapsing to her knees. She reached up to her goggles, checking the display. 304:27. She should have been asleep five, six hours ago. She was exhausted, but she couldn't rest here. Even with her mission complete, there was a lot to do before she could go home. She had more than three hundred hours, twelve and a half days, to endure before Vale was in position to extract her pod. And she would be spending most of them just getting back to her landing site.

Switching her weapon into its javelin mode, she jammed the tip into the ground and hauled herself to her feet. She continued using her spear as a walking stick as she made her way back through the building, towards the entrance, trying to remember the trees she had passed on the way here, and whether any of them were large enough to rest in.

She was lost in such thoughts until she rounded a corner and was confronted suddenly with a large Grimm. Bony spikes protruded from its massive hunched back and broad shoulders. Its bulky, bear-like head was low to the ground, sniffing loudly at the marble floor. As the blue light of the flare fell on it, it lifted its head and growled. If it had been doing anything else but plodding through the middle of the room, if it had made any effort at a stealthy approach, Pyrrha wouldn't have seen it. Not until it was too late. But the Ursa was either confident in its safety, or eager to the point of recklessness.

It hadn't been here before. Pyrrha was confident in that. But the sun was still out, would still be out for a few hours. So the beast would have had to traverse the clearing, enduring the daylight it loathed. In order to follow her scent. It had come for her. Pyrrha's stomach tightened, and she gripped her javelin until her knuckles ached, pulling the point from the floor. With only her shaking legs to hold her up, she struggled to stand tall, though she couldn't hold it for long.

But that was alright. She didn't have to. Just long enough for the Grimm to draw back one massive, clawed limb, and begin to swing. As soon as she saw that its momentum was committed to that attack, she let her knees buckle, falling forward into an awkward crouch. Before her legs gave out and that stance crumbled as well, Pyrrha kicked off the stone floor, springing forward in a low arc that took her under the swinging claws of the confused beast, under the Ursa's belly, where she plunged the spear point up into its gut.

The impact shuddered through her shoulder, and the resistance of the Grimm's body sent her spiraling off course. She crashed to the ground, rolling across the hard stone for several feet. She slammed the ichor-stained tip of her spear into the ground and struggled to get up; it was slow going, but she wasn't in any hurry. She could already see the pool of black sludge spreading from the collapsed form of the gutted Ursa. Slowly, she made her way back to her feet, her breathing already haggard after such a brief struggle, and continued to stumble through the Conservatory.

* * *

A single shaft of moonlight signified a hole punched through the canopy--the clearest sign that something had fallen from the sky here. In the weeks since the pod had landed, its scorched metal surface had been almost completely enveloped in vines, and the crater its impact had left was coated in thick moss. The whole area was scarcely recognizable as the site of such a tumultuous landing.

And the woman that stumbled out of the underbrush was scarcely recognizable as the one who had walked confidently away from this same site nearly a month earlier. The red of her hair could scarcely be seen through the crust of grime that caked her tangled locks, and there was barely any pretense of the tight, orderly bun they had once been held in. That same grime coated her from head to toe, making her skin distinguishable from her bodysuit only by the gleaming trails of sweat running through the muck, and layered streaks of discoloration from weeks of sweating through the grime without ever really washing it away. But those sweat stains revealed a great deal more skin than she had exposed when she left; the glove on her left arm was peeled away almost to the elbow, and only a few tattered strips of her bodysuit stretched between her waist and her knees.

Pyrrha staggered towards the vine covered pod and slumped against it, taking a few minutes to catch her breath before beginning the arduous task of pulling away the plant life that was attempting to reclaim her means of escape. She started to slide out the racks on the sides, but had to pause to clear out yet more leaves and vines gunking up the works, before finally managing to get them open. She dug into her satchel and began put away what was left her armor, the scuffed, stained greaves and bracers, and those tools and supplies she had not used, lost, or broken. She pulled out a battered metal canteen, pulling her gas mask away from her face to empty its contents before putting it back in its slot.

She stepped away from the racks on the sides of the pod, and knelt down to pull out a small tray, nestled just beneath the central chamber where she slept. She slid a large metal case out of it, setting it on the ground at her knees and opening the lid. The inside was padded with rubbery black foam. One by one, Pyrrha pulled the cylinders she had retrieved from the Conservatory and buried them in the foam. Once the last was placed inside, she closed the lid, set the box back in its tray, and slid the whole thing back into the pod. With that, she put the satchel itself back on the rack, and reached up to check her goggles.

26:14. She was cutting this a lot closer than she had expected when she set out. And yet, now that she was here, she still had to wait. Twenty six hours... hours in which anything could go wrong. In which she might be found, might have to fight, might be defeated again, might--

Pyrrha stumbled to the weapons rack and slotted her rifle back into place, then reached up to the pod and opened the central chamber, layer after layer of metal panels sliding out of the way. She climbed in unsteadily, before letting herself fall back in and closing the doors behind her. Even if there was nowhere to go, even if sealing herself away like this meant she wouldn't have anything to eat or drink until she got back to Vale, it would hide her from sight. More importantly, it would hide her scent.

Reaching up a trembling hand, Pyrrha slid the inner door of the pod shut; all of the outer panels followed suit, and the shelves retracted into their places. The pod lay undisturbed for just over twenty-six hours and then, with a roar and a burst of billowing flames from the bottom, rocketed up into the sky.


	5. Into a Guilded Cage

Four men sat quietly at control desks, each with an array of knobs, levers, and glass screens at his fingertips. The displays and mechanisms varied by desk, but the uniforms were more or less identical--layer upon layer of alternating black and white garments, punctuated by a plain red tie, though two of the men had removed their black jackets and draped them over the backs of their seats.

While three of the uniformed men sat leaning over their desks, even if two of them didn't seem to be currently engaged in anything, one had given up the pretense of work and was sitting backwards, straddling his chair and looking up at the large glass pane on the wall behind them. It showed in red outlines an elliptical world map, with five major landmasses and a number of smaller islands marked. There were also four colored lines arcing across the world--green, gold, blue, and white. They each started as solid lines on the left of the map, then came to a larger mark of two concentric circles, and afterward transitioned to a dotted line. In addition to the four arcs, there were a handful of glowing green dots scattered across the map. One, the one closest to the concentric circles on the line, was blinking.

There was a slight clattering sound, accompanied by sporadic creaks and puffs of air. The man straddling his chair lowered his gaze and, though it was hard to follow his eyes through his tinted goggles, seemed to peer through the windows of the door beneath the map. With a shrug, he turned around and began settling back at his desk, just as brass bells began to clang throughout the room. The other men who had been relaxing sat to attention and began adjusting knobs and levers at their desks. Within a minute, loud clanks began to echo from the lower half--separated from the raised platform where the desks and their operators sat by short staircases and wrought-iron railings. That section of the room had only a set of glass and copper panels dominating the far wall, and two large wheels mounted on the nearer walls.

With a pneumatic hiss and a metallic shudder, the sounds came to a halt. After a moment there was another hiss, and fog began to seep from between the panels. The men got to their feet; those who were still wearing their jackets discarded them, and all four made their way down to the lower part of the room. Two set to work turning the wheels, causing the panels to slide apart and revealing a cyllindrical, metallic pod, its surface marred equally by scorch marks and mud stains. As the men stood in awkward readiness, the pod hissed and began to open. The shelves on the sides rolled out, and the central chamber opened up, steam rolling from inside.

It was a minute or two before Pyrrha came to with a wince and a groan, struggling to open eyes crusted over after her long sleep. She reached up to unhook the tubes from her gas mask, then stumbled out of the pod, glancing around at the four men with bleary eyes. She found what she was looking for and staggered forward, reaching up to tear the mask away from her face before retching into the aluminum tray he was holding. Not that there was much in her stomach, after spending her last day planetside hiding in her pod with nothing to eat. But that didn't stop the nausea that gripped her stomach.

Despite the pain and indignity of dry heaving into a pan for several minutes, there was a sense of... not relief, but grim satisfaction, that she'd never felt during decontamination before. As miserable as it was, this feeling meant that every trace of the toxin had been ruthlessly purged from her body.

Finally her nausea subsided--though the pain of hunger that followed it was nearly as debilitating. Even so, Pyrrha got to shaky feet, reaching up to lift her goggles from her eyes and glance around. Shapes were still a little blurry, but she could make out colors well enough, and she knew that the large expanse of red being extended towards her was a robe. She reached out and grabbed it, immediately regretting how hastily she'd snatched it from the man's hand.

But if it her rudeness bothered him, it didn't show. If any of them were perturbed or flustered by the battered woman in tattered clothes before them, it didn't show. Pyrrha supposed this was normal for docking bay technicians; they must have seen Huntresses in this state at least once a week. If anything, her previous, relatively pristine returns had elicited more reaction.

As she donned the thin cotton robe, tying it tightly at the waist to cover herself, one of the men spoke. **"I saw outside, there's already a carriage waiting for you, Miss Nikos."**

 **"Thank you,"** she said, cringing at the hoarseness of her own voice. 

**"Your acquisitions, Miss Nikos."** One of the men held out a dark shape--the storage case from the lowest shelf of her pod. The rest of her weapons and supplies, the ones that were deemed usable, anyway, would be sent to her quarters in due time, but it was customary for Huntresses to carry their own acquisitions home with them. Pyrrha understood why--after everything she had endured for those little cylinders, she was loathe to let the case out of her care. But the weight was a strain on her shoulder right now, and her legs were still not very steady. Fortunately, she didn't have far to go. She carefully made her way up the steps, gripping the iron railings to drag herself forward. Finally she reached the door and stepped out of the docking bay, into the undercity of Vale.

After a month on the surface, Pyrrha's head felt like it would split from the cacophony of people and machinery--pistons pumping, gears grinding, voices chattering, feet clattering against cobblestones. The undercity was mostly manufacturing and botanical culturing, with cramped residences packed in wherever they would fit, to save the people who worked in those factories and culture plants a long walk every day. It was busy, it was crowded, and it was loud.

The carriage did not match its surroundings in the slightest. It was a small vehicle, forgoing even the pretense of a coachman's seat at the front, and yet it could barely squeeze through the narrow streets of the undercity. The wood paneling was a glossy white, trimmed with patterns of thick golden lines, and a family crest painted on the door in gold--two crescents, nestled inside one another. There were windows on all sides, each backed by a white curtain embroidered in gold thread to offer some privacy to the interior. Even the undercarriage was gilded, though Pyrrha supposed that wasn't actual gold--but that would be a matter of durability, not expense. The man who paid for this carriage did not concern himself much with expense.

Pyrrha pulled open the door and climbed the steps into the interior, setting the case down at her feet and slumping down into the seat, whose soft, cream-colored cushions that seemed to swallow up her slender form. She could hear a faint creaking sound as the carriage sank on its undercarriage with her weight, compressing a set of springs that signaled the mechanisms that the passenger was aboard. The door closed, and with a hiss of air and the clicking of cogs, the carriage began moving.

Pyrrha leaned forward, resting her her elbows on her knees and her chin on her hands, staring at the box at her feet. Slowly her eyes unfocused as her mind wandered, and she lost all sense of time. Gradually her brow furrowed, and her jaw began to clench. Eventually the gentle jostling from the carriage coming to a halt shook her out of her trance-like state. Had she come this far already? She usually took a moment to exchange a greeting with the elevator guards, just as a matter of courtesy, but it seemed like the chance had already passed. With a sigh she sat back up, then leaned her shoulder against the side of the carriage. The vehicle shook as the elevator began to carry it upwards. After a few minutes, the elevator shuddered to a stop, and Pyrrha could hear the clangs and creaks of the wrought-iron doors sliding open. The carriage began to move again, and she pulled away from the wall paneling to sink back into the cushions.

The next time the carriage came to a stop, Pyrrha knew it was the last time; it wasn't going anywhere until she got out of it. Even so, she sat for a few more moments, peeling off her gloves before reaching up to her face, trying to rub the crust of sleep and gods knew what out of her eyes. Then she knelt down, grabbed the case, and hauled herself to her feet. In response to the shift in her weight, the doors opened, and she stepped down onto the uptown sidewalk. As the carriage shut its doors and rolled on without her, Pyrrha spared a quick glance towards the bulkheads high above, at the pattern of a blue sky with fluffy white clouds projected there. It was a soothing sight, but she couldn't savor it for long; even with the robe offering some degree of modesty, she did not want to be out in the street like this.

As she walked up the stairs of the tall, narrow building, the door opened for her. Standing in the entryway was a bespectacled woman in her late fourties, holding a leather-bound book tightly to her chest. **"Welcome home, Miss Nikos."** Although her tone was flat and business-like, Pyrrha thought she saw some warmth in her eyes as she stepped aside to let Pyrrha through. **"Your bath is already drawn up, and Mis'ess Eudora should have breakfast ready in about two hours."**

 **"Thank you, Miss Gerson,"** Pyrrha said.

 **"May I take your collar?"** She rearranged the tray and book in her arms, settling the tray on top of the book and holding it out.

 **"Of course, thank you."** Closing the door behind her, Pyrrha reached up to her gorget, unbuckling the heavy clasps that held it together. She peeled the metal plates away from her skin, exposing her neck to the open air for the first time in a month, wrinkling her nose at the rank smell of sweat. She settled the front and back pieces of the gorget on the tray. The once polished golden surface was discolored with brown mud and black ichor, with vertical streaks of light and dark where her sweat had run down over the surface of the metal.

**"I'll have it clean by noon."**

**"Thank you."** Pyrrha made her way towards the stairs leading up to the second floor, then paused at the foot of them. **"I hate to trouble either of you, but before breakfast, could you bring some food up to the bath?"**

**"No trouble at all, Miss Nikos."**

**"Just something light, to hold me over until--"**

**"Of course, Miss Nikos."**

**"And..."** Pyrrha closed her eyes, leaning against the wall as she tried to concentrate. **"I need to see a surgeon, as soon as one can be scheduled."**

**"Yes, MIss--a surgeon?"**

Pyrrha tried to ignore the alarm in Miss Gerson's voice. **"Yes. I don't think it's too serious, but as a matter of protocol, I should get a doctor's approval before I meet with my Patron. Also, I'd hate for him to make any arrangements that have to get rescheduled, so please let J--let Lord Arc know all this as soon as possible."**

**"Yes, Miss Nikos."**

**"And also, please relay my request, to schedule purification as soon as possible. Once we've got the doctor's approval, of course."**

For a long moment, both women were silent. Pyrrha felt herself growing tense with each passing breath. Finally Miss Gerson spoke. **"Of course, Miss Nikos."**

 **"Great, thank you so much."** Pyrrha pulled herself away from the wall, turning to give her attendant the brightest smile she could muster before stumbling up the stairs.

Reaching the top of the stairs, she turned left and headed towards her room, stopping just long enough to set the black case inside the door. WIth that weight out of her hand and off her mind, she turned and made her way down the hall and across the balcony overlooking the first floor, towards the bathroom. She opened the door, and almost melted in the wave of warm, steamy that rolled over her. Pyrrha stepped inside and closed the door behind her, leaning against it for a few seconds before slipping the red robe from her shoulders.

She worked the gloves off her arms and draped them over a rack. Then she started to peel off the tattered remains of her body suit. As she did, some of the shredded cloth tore further, and by the time she got most of it off, one leg of the garment still clung to her skin. She peeled that off as well and started to hang it on the rack, but with a groan, bundled the scattered scraps up in her arms, and the gloves as well. She walked over to the waste chute and dumped the armful of cloth. She closed her eyes and listened to it tumble down towards an undercity incinerator.

She turned away from the chute and walked towards the brass tub against the wall. She gazed through the clouds of fog into the murky green water. She wanted to climb in, submerge herself, and soak until the warmth reached her bones. But if she did that now, it wouldn't be long before she was soaking in her own filth. She was too dirty even to bathe. Instead she reached to take several folded washrags and a small porcelain pot from a nearby rack. She bent down to take one of the buckets of water resting at the foot of the tub, settled herself over a drain in the floor, and poured the water slowly over her head.

At first it was tolerable. Satisfying, even, to peel away the layers of grime coating her. But before long, she felt herself start to flush with feverish heat once again. By the end of the expedition, she'd gotten past the point where applying the salts aroused her, but that was a delicate touch, insulated by a crust of sweat, dirt, ichor, and older salts. Now that she was loosening up that layer, roughly scrubbing her skin with the coarse cloth, her breath was starting to come in shallow, ragged gasps. Her knees began to tremble as she began to work the cloth over her groin, and they buckled as she draped the washcloth over two fingers and shoved it in between her legs.

 **"Ah!"** Pyrrha fell to one knee, knocking the empty bucket over into the full one, but she continued to mercilessly scrub her insides raw. On some level she hoped that the discomfort from the roughness would squash the building pleasure, but even when it didn't, she didn't let up. This, above all else, needed to be _clean._

Purification couldn't come soon enough.

Once she had scrubbed herself from head to toe, she picked up the vase and removed the lid, letting the scent of lilies wash over her. She poured a dollop of thick amber liquid into her cupped hand and began to knead it into her hair. Coating her long locks took almost the entire bottle, but there was just enough to pour over a clean washrag and begin to lather her skin with it.

As Pyrrha was lifting the second bucket of hot water, a knock came on the bathroom door. It was mostly a formality; Miss Gerson didn't wait for a response before letting herself in. Pyrrha could hear her footsteps as she poured the hot water over herself, rinsing away the coating of suds from her body.

**"Glad I caught you before you got in. Crumbs in the bath are not hygienic."**

Pyrrha turned to see her attendant offering a plate with two slices of buttered bread and a cup. She picked up one of the clean washcloths and dried her hands on it, then reached for the plate. **"Thank you, Miss Gerson."**

One bite of bread, and it was all she could do to maintain her composure. The contented noise that welled up in her throat was undignified enough, but at least she managed not to sag against the side of the tub with her eyes rolling back in her head. It was a simple thing, now. For the seventeen years she had lived in the undercity, fresh bread with real butter would have been a delicacy for a special occasion, but over five years of uptown living it had become a casual snack. Still, after a month of protein slurries and electrolyte tabs and water with a sterile, metallic tang, a mouthful of real food was like coming back from the dead.

As Pyrrha finished the bread and reached for the cup, she noticed Miss Gerson staring. She followed her attendant's line of sight to her shoulder. It had been a few weeks since she'd been bitten, but without proper treatment, the tooth marks hadn't healed very much. In fact, in her vigorous scrubbing, she had dislodged the scabs, exposing her wounds anew. The skin of her shoulder was red and tender; without antiseptic, or even clean bandages, she supposed it had gotten infected at some point. Of course, the infection itself should have been sterilized during decontamination alongside the Grimm's toxin, but the aftermath was still there.

 **"I'm fine,"** Pyrrha said, taking the cup and taking a sip of cool water. **"I might need a few stitches, that's all."**

Miss Gerson looked away without saying anything. Pyrrha looked down at the cup in her hand, but her eyes instead focused on her own thighs. She was aware enough of her body and her own condition to know how badly bruised she had been, so badly that not all of it had faded, but this was the first time she had been clean enough to see the yellowish discoloration that stretched across her stomach, groin, and thighs. Gulping her water down quickly, Pyrrha set down the cup and did her best not to look like she was scrambling into the tub. It wasn't that she was trying to hide her injuries, exactly, but she didn't want to draw any attention to them either.

As uncomfortable as she was, Pyrrha couldn't help but feel relieved as she finally sank into the hot water. Almost instantly, her muscles began to relax, the tension that had become so customary she had stopped noticing it melting away. Letting out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, she settled in to the tub, leaning her arms and the back of her head on the rim. She closed her eyes as Miss Gerson knelt behind her and began working her fingers gently through Pyrrha's hair. 

**"I relayed your messages to Lord Arc,"** she said.

**"Thank you. I appreciate it."**

**"No response yet, but I'm sure one will be coming soon."**

**"Yes, probably. Thank you."**

The older woman did what she could to untangle the knots and kinks in Pyrrha's crimson locks by hand before switching over to an ivory comb. Pyrrha might have dozed off in the warm water, but the occasional tug against her scalp kept her from drifting to sleep. Eventually, though, she was drawn back to the moment by a sharp sound that Miss Gerson made under her breath.

**"Tch."**

Pyrrha opened her eyes, though she was careful not to move her head. **"Is something wrong?"**

**"Oh, it's just. All these split ends. I'm going to have to take six inches off, at least."**

Pyrrha's eyelids drooped as she lowered her gaze towards the murky water. "What do you expect," she wanted to say. "I spent the last month in a jungle, climbing trees and crawling through underbrush and trying not to get raped by monsters. I had other priorities than hair care."

Instead she said, **"Sorry. Do what you can, I'll try to take better care of it next time."**

Pyrrha could hear the scraping of scissor blades as Miss Gerson continued. **"Since the surgeon might delay your purification, I'll have to skip the nape and do it closer to your appointment. You might as well hold off on shaving as well."**

There was a heavy sloshing sound as Pyrrha lifted her legs out of the water, resting her feet on the rim of the tub. The patches of thin red fuzz along her legs didn't really bother her, but the uneven splotchiness of them did. She didn't much like the visual reminder of how hard her work was on her body. After a few more expeditions, and more to the point a few more rounds of decontamination, she would probably lose every hair follicle below the neck. It was not a pleasant thought, but at least once she reached that point she wouldn't have to look at the haphazard swaths of body hair. (And she would be saved the bother of shaving them every time her Patron called on her.)

She let her legs slip back beneath the water with a loud plunk. **"Yeah, it can wait."** Pyrrha closed her eyes again, listening to the sound of scissors. In time, that faded away, and Miss Gerson began piling her hair up into a bun, pinning it in place with a few pins before getting to her feet.

**"Do you need anything else, Miss Nikos?"**

**"No, thank you."**

**"I'll call you when breakfast is ready."**

**"Yes, please."**

She could hear the scrape and clatter of porcelain against stone tile as Miss Gerson picked up the cup and plate, and the tap of shoes against the floor as she made her way to the door. There was a creak and a click as she stepped out, and then Pyrrha was alone.

She sank deeper into the tub, until she was completely submerged, cut off from the sounds of the city by the rushing of water in her ears.


	6. A Silver Morning

Pyrrha stepped down the stairs slowly, the hem of her red silk robe trailing a few steps behind her. She felt light-headed after nearly dozing off in the bath, but even though she was scarcely aware of her legs, her footing was sure and steady. Without so much exhaustion to weigh her down, she could traverse her flat on muscle memory alone. At the bottom of the staircase she turned, walking through the foyer and into the dining room in the back.

Before she had even reached her seat, a woman in her mid-fifties with grease and flour staining her apron came bustling out of the kitchen with a tray of food. She set a large platter and a small bowl at the head of the table, next to a small tray and a cup of water that were already waiting there. As Pyrrha pulled back her chair and settled in to that seat, Miss'ess Eudora was already setting the next two places at her left. The table was large enough to comfortably seat eight, maybe ten in a pinch, but it rarely hosted more than three.

Pyrrha picked up her fork, gazing down into the plate of fried eggs and toast before her, but tapped the silverware lightly against the table before setting it down. As Miss'ess Eudora settled in to the third place setting, Pyrrha instead reached for the small black pellet on the tray. She slipped the pill into her mouth, letting the bitterness spread across her tongue. Pyrrha reached for the water glass, and while she was washing the pill down, Miss Gerson walked in to the dining room, with her leatherbound book tight to her chest once more. Without a word, only a slight nod to greet the other two women, she took her place in the seat between Pyrrha and Miss'ess Eudora. Only when Miss Gerson reached for her fork did Pyrrha do the same.

Despite waiting for Miss Gerson to join them before starting, Pyrrha was the first to finish her food. She all but inhaled her eggs, sopping up the running yolks with her toast and devouring it ravenously. The bowl of porridge gave her pause, if only for a moment--the sweetness of minced fruits mixed into it sent her reeling after the first bite. Even so, her hunger won out over any desire to savor it, and before long she was setting and empty bowl on her plate.

And then she waited. She folded her hands in her lap and did her best not to look impatient while waiting for the others to finish eating. Eventually Miss Gerson finished her food, pushed aside her plate, and wiped her mouth with a napkin; Pyrrha hastily did the same, though there was nothing to wipe away. She hadn't left even a crumb on her lips or a smear of porridge on her chin, but it was a matter of ettiquette, of protocol. It should be a matter of routine when she was here in Vale, the same as cleaning her weapon down on Remnant.

The same as examining her surroundings before moving around carelessly, so she didn't trip on roots, or back into the waiting arms of a Grimm--

Before her mind could stumble too far into self-flagellation, Pyrrha was pulled out of her thoughts by the snap of leather against wood, as Miss Gerson opened her book.

**"I have heard back from your Patron. Your medical appointment is scheduled for eleven twenty."**

Pyrrha blinked. **"What time is it now?"**

 **"Quarter past nine,"** chimed in Miss'ess Eudora.

 **"That's so soon,"** Pyrrha said.

**"I would imagine Lord Arc is taking this rather seriously. He also indicated that he would be available to meet with you tonight, with the surgeon's approval."**  
  
**"Can I see?"**

Miss Gerson slid the book across the table, though she did not take her fingers off the edge of the page. The two page spread contained a neat table, organized by hour to form a weekly schedule. The first half of the week was dominated by a single word, written in a calligraphic hand, tidy and elegant, and which was duplicated precisely for each hour: _"Expedition."_ That persisted into Thursday morning, where the six o clock slot was marked in a different hand, a little less formal but still very neat and legible: "06:03: ARRIVAL AT DOCKING BAY E2." A few rows down from that, "11:20: APPOINTMENT WITH DOCTOR ARGENT." And then later in the evening, "21:00 (TENTATIVE): PURIFICATION."

Pyrrha pushed the book back to Miss Gerson, who closed it. **"Even if the surgeon approves it, I wasn't expecting to see him tonight."**

**"You did say as soon as possible, and I relayed that to Lord Arc. As I said, I'm sure he's taking this seriously."**

**"Yes, and, thank you for that."**

**"Are you ready?"** Miss Gerson glanced at the little tray by Pyrrha's plate, where the pill had been laying.

**"It's not that. I mean, yes, I'm ready. The sooner the better. I just hope he doesn't feel pressured. I would feel bad if he had to cancel plans or anything."**

**"Well, I can't claim to be privy all the details of Lord Arc's social calendar, but I'm not aware of anything scheduled for tonight. I'm sure he's looking forward to seeing you. Seeing what you've brought.** " Miss Gerson looked up at Pyrrha thoughtfully. **"Did you find what you were looking for, Miss Nikos?"**

Pyrrha opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by a disdainful "hmph" from Miss'ess Eudora. **"That's between her and the boy, isn't it? You keep to your own business, Gerson."**

It looked like Miss Gerson was about to snap back, but before she could Pyrrha hastened to chime in, **"That's quite alright. It was a fruitful expedition."** She felt her jaw tighten, but did her best to continue speaking cheerfully. **"Challenging, but fruitful. It'll take time to figure out exactly what I brought back, but I think it's going to be wonderful."**

With another "hmph," Miss'ess Eudora stood up and began gathering the empty plates and cups from around the table.

 **"That's good to hear,"** said Miss Gerson. **"Then, I'll come and get you for your appointment. Will you be in your room, Miss Nikos?"**

**"Yes, I think so."**

**"Very good. Please excuse me."** She stood up and walked away from the table.

Pyrrha waited at the table as long as she thought would be polite, before standing up and heading back to the stairs. She made her way to her room and shut the door behind her. She glanced around, torn between the plush red chair in the corner by the bookshelves, or the low, luxurious bed on the opposite side of the room. On some level, she really wanted to take a nap. The thought of sleeping in her own bed was so alluring. But she did have a doctor to see in a few hours, and besides, it would be a good idea to start establishing a good sleeping schedule. It would probably be better to have a seat and do some light reading.

She wandered over to the shelves, looked through her books, but ultimately picked one at random. She settled into the chair and almost immediately realized the problem--the plush cushions and velvet upholstery were nearly as comfortable as the bed. It wasn't long before she was nodding off, struggling to stay conscious. Eventually, her head fell, and her hands fell into her lap, the book slipping from her fingers.

* * *

Pyrrha stirred again to a sharp knock on her door. **"Miss Nikos, it's time for your appointment."**

Pyrrha slowly opened her eyes, and just as slowly blinked. Then she blinked more rapidly, her eyes beginning to focus as she sat upright. **"The surgeon's here?"**

There was a pause. Then, **"Doctor Argent is scheduled to arrive in ten minutes. I thought you might want to be notified somewhat in advance, so you can get ready. Are you dressed, Miss Nikos?"**

 **"Oh."** Pyrrha glanced down at her silk robe. Anything she put on, she would probably have to take off again for the surgeon's examination. But even so, this was probably inappropriate to meet a visitor. **"No, not yet. Thank you. I'll be down in a few."**

**"Very good, Miss Nikos."**

As Miss Gerson's footsteps echoed down the hall, Pyrrha clambered out of her chair and towards the small door by her bed. It led to a room nearly as big as her bedroom, with walls lined with racks, shelves, and dressers. Dozens of gowns hung from hangers, and an array of shoes, from boots to stilettos to sandals, were lined up neatly against the floorboards.

It was frustrating. She had a few outfits that were practical for daily use, but it was always so hard to find them in the sea of delicate dresses that took far more than ten minutes to get in to or out of. It seemed like every time she went to see Jaune, he gave her an entire new outfit for the occasion. Half of these she had only worn once. Half of them she suspected she would never wear again. But there was always a chance that some cheongsam she hadn't worn in half a year would come back into fashion suddenly, or that Jaune would suddenly decide that the gloves he gave her three months ago made the perfect accessory to his new jacket when hanging off his arm. So throwing any of it out... it probably wasn't a breach of contract, exactly, but Miss Gerson would never let her hear the end of it. And she would have to tell Jaune, and she didn't think he would take it well.

In the end, that meant that she spent three minutes of her alloted ten just _finding_ an outfit she could put on in the other seven. After assembling her clothes and hanging up her robe on a peg, she hastily donned an ensemble of a red skirt and a white blouse, with black stockings and mary janes. Simple, but formal enough to receive guests at her home. With that, Pyrrha took the far door of the walk-in closet, leading straight out to the hallway, and hurried down the stairs less than a minute before the bell rang. Pyrrha opened the door to greet a gray-haired woman in a black vest and trousers. **"Doctor Argent?"**

**"That's me. And you'll be Miss Nikos, I expect."**

**"Just Pyrrha, please."** She stepped aside from the door. **"Come in, come in."**

**"Pyrrha, sure. Whatever is most comfortable."**

**"Would you like some tea? Or, it's almost lunch time--"**

**"Work comes first, but I wouldn't mind having a spot of tea after I'm done."** The surgeon's expectant eyes fell on Miss Gerson, who after a moment's hesitation turned and headed towards the kitchen. Argent, meanwhile, was already beginning to roll up her sleeves. **"Did you want to do this here, or did you have another room in mind?"**

**"That depends on what you need to do the examination. Sorry, I haven't done this in a while, so..."**

**"I told you before, whatever is most comfortable. I do need a little space, but I doubt you have a room in this flat that's too small for an exam."** She opened the heavy black bag she had been carrying and began rummaging through it. **"I also need light, but you might not want windows, so I brought my own."** She pulled out what Pyrrha recognized to be a smaller, more genteel version of the flares she carried in Remnant. **"So anywhere you like. I know lots of girls prefer privacy for an exam like this, and I can accommodate."**

Pyrrha hesitated. Her room was the most private, but somehow that was almost too private. Too personal. This flat was her home, but the bedroom was the only place that really felt like it was _hers._ She let others in, Miss Gerson and Miss'ess Eudora and a few friends, and of course it was Jaune's name on the lease so he could go wherever he liked. But even he had never seen her naked in her own bedroom.

**"...the bathroom should be fine."**

**"Bathroom it is. Lead the way, Miss Pyrrha."**  
  
**"Just Pyrrha."**

Pyrrha led the doctor upstairs to the bathroom; once they were both inside, she closed the door and leaned against it.

 **"Now,"** said the surgeon, **"I didn't get too many details from your young man, but from what he did mention, I gather you've come into sexual contact with some Grimm. Is that correct?"**

Pyrrha's cheeks burned and her gut twisted, her disgust warring with her embarrassment. She knew she would have to talk about what had happened, guessed that she would have to relive it, but she still wasn't ready to think about it. At the same time, the thought that a complete stranger knew this sickening thing, without Pyrrha being the one to tell her, was mortifying. It probably couldn't be helped, but that didn't change how she felt.

**"Just one Grimm. A Beringel. But, correct."**

**"That must have been terrible."**

Pyrrha felt her jaw clench and her shoulders shake slightly, but did not acknowledge the surgeon's sympathy. **"Before that, not sexual, but I was bitten by a King Taijitu."** She reached up to put a hand over her shoulder **. "I didn't have proper bandages or antiseptics, so the wounds might not be healing well."**

**"Anything else?"**

Pyrrha shook her head. **"Minor bruises and lacerations, nothing out of the ordinary there."**

**"Well, I'd better do a full physical, if only to get a baseline to work from in case you need me again. I've got some paperwork from your previous physician, but it's more than a year old."**

**"Sorry about that. Of course, we'll go with whatever you think is best, Doctor Argent."**

**"Alright, you'll need to sit for parts of this, so bring a chair or something over here,"** Argent nodded towards the center of the room, **"and go ahead and get undressed."**

Pyrrha crossed the room to grab a stool that sat by the tub and brought it to the center of the room, where she set it down and began to unbutton her silk blouse. She let it slide off her shoulders and laid it on the floor at her feet. She pulled down her skirt, then the short, snug cotton drawers beneath. She reached up and unfastened her stockings from their garters, sliding both down off her legs. Pyrrha stepped out of the growing pile of clothing around her ankles and pushed it to the side with her blouse. That left her in her loosest linen chemise, which barely hung past her groin. She wasn't wearing a corset--there hadn't been time, and the fact that Miss Gerson hadn't come for her earlier, or offered to help her put one on, reassured Pyrrha that there was no expectation to wear one. She pulled the chemise up over her head and set it on the floor with the rest. Then, despite the redness of her cheeks and the desire to cover herself in front of the stranger, she let her hands settle at her sides.

The examination was very matter of fact and business-like, though not to the point of coldness. Pyrrha had endured physicals where she felt like a specimen on a slab about to be dissected; she'd also been examined by doctors who tried to make small talk while prying open her orifices to look inside. With Argent, it was still certainly awkward and uncomfortable to be poked and pinched and moved into various positions, Pyrrha at least felt she was speaking one professional to another. The specula were the worst of it; not only were their insertions the most uncomfortable points of entire examination, but that discomfort seemed to do nothing to impede her body's reactions, whether in front or behind. But, Argent didn't comment on the hitch in Pyrrha's breath or the slight trickle of moisture within. Pyrrha told herself the surgeon was probably used to that sort of thing, she seemed well acquainted with Huntresses and the dangers the Grimm posed, but it was still embarrassing.

Finally, with her more general examination concluded, Argent turned her attention to Pyrrha's shoulder. She had glanced at the wounds before, but now examining them in more detail, prodding them with thin metal instruments, her face grew a bit more stern even as Pyrrha tried not to flinch.

**"I don't forsee any lasting harm this time, though you really should be bringing bandages and antiseptics with you."**

Pyrrha winced. **"I know. I just--"** She thought of all the explanations she could give. They all felt like hollow excuses. **"I will. Sorry."**

**"Well, in this one small way, the toxin worked in your favor. Staved off infection for quite a while; not a lot of bacteria can survive that stuff. I expect the infection didn't set in more than a few days before you made it back to decontamination. But I am going to have to clean these wounds out and stitch them up. I'll try to be gentle but I don't expect it will be pleasant."**

**"That's alright, and thank you for your concern. What do you need from me?"**

**"Sit down and stay still."**

Pyrrha sat down on her stool and closed her eyes as Argent started to work on her shoulder. It was unpleasant, and sometimes painful. as the surgeon peeled away whatever remained of the scabs over the wounds and began to rigorously clean them, inside and out. Pyrrha thought she had more or less cleaned it during her bath, but she could feel a viscous liquid dribbling down her skin as some of the wounds were exposed. The odor was unpleasant, but was quickly overwhelmed by the scent of the stinging antiseptics. Pyrrha put her hands in her lap and tried not to move beyond the slow clenching and unclenching of her fists. That got harder when the needle came out, and Doctor Argent began sewing sutures into her flesh. Pyrrha's jaw clenched, but she managed to stay still and let the surgeon do her work.

Finally, with one last scraping snip of scissors, Doctor Argent stepped back. **"Alright, all done."**

Pyrrha opened her eyes and glanced at her shoulder. For a moment she didn't see the sutures, but after squinting a bit she saw that the thin, pale threads were nearly invisible against her skin.

**"Thank you, Doctor Argent. Is there anything I should do, or not do, while it's healing?"**

**"Don't pick at it. Probably don't touch it at all. Apply fresh antiseptics twice a day. I'll need to speak to your Patron about scheduling a followup visit, probably Monday or Tuesday. If it's well I should be able to remove the sutures."**

**"Thank you."** Pyrrha paused, uncertain how to bring up the topic on her mind. But, Argent had been rather direct with her up to this point. It was probably fine to reciprocate. **"When should I schedule my purification?"**

 **"Whenever you like, I suppose,"** said the surgeon. **"Well, if you don't trust the young man to leave your shoulder alone, then maybe you'd better wait to have the sutures out first."**

 **"I think I can trust him. I mean, if I tell him it's doctor's orders, I think he'll be careful. I actually wasn't thinking about my shoulder."** Pyrrha cast her gaze down to the bruises that still covered her stomach and thighs, and ended up staring distantly into her lap. **"I was more concerned about internal injuries."** Although she tried to meet Argent's matter of fact demeanor in kind, she found her voice beginning to shake as she spoke faster and faster. **"The bruises and bite marks I can judge pretty well by myself, but I, I have no idea what the damage is inside. I think I remember it... slamming against my cervix, over and over. I thought--did anything tear? Or, rupture, is that even a thing? Or--"**

 **"Just bruised,"** said Argent. **"Vagina's fairly elastic. A Huntress that runs into a Grimm rough enough to tear it, probably isn't coming back at all."**

It shouldn't have been a comforting thought, to know how much worse it could have been. But it was, even if the relief it left her with was somewhat hollow. **"I was, or, we, had talked--my Patron thought we might take care of it tonight, if there wasn't any medical reason to put it off."**

**"Well. You're pretty bruised, like I said, inside and out. I can't say it will be comfortable, although I doubt being as sensitive as you are is very comfortable either. But I wouldn't say you're at any particular risk either way; just a matter of weighing which discomfort you can live with. And that's between you and the boy."**

**"Right. Thank you."**

**"Do you want me to notify him? Like I said, I need to schedule your followup to remove the sutures. Wouldn't be out of my way to give him the all clear. MIght as well mention not to touch the shoulder as well."**

**"Would you? I mean, I'm sure Miss Gerson would relay the message, but I feel like a medical statement might be better coming from you."**

**"If you like."** Doctor Argent packed up the last of her things in her bag and stood up. **"Now, I believe I was offered tea?"**


	7. Purity

Pyrrha lay in her bed, staring up at the ceiling. That morning she had worried about falling asleep, but at the moment sleep seemed impossible, and the comfort of her velvet bedspread was the only thing keeping her from pacing around. It was getting close to dinner time, and there was still no word from Jaune.

She had no reason to think the surgeon had forgotten to relay her message--and even if she had, Miss Gerson had sent her own update as well. It was possible he hadn't checked his tome, and hadn't seen the messages yet. But he was the one who had scheduled Argent's house call, and he'd already apparently resolved to keep his evening free for the purification. If Pyrrha were in his shoes, she'd be compulsively checking every few minutes. Which is exactly what she would have been doing now, if she'd had the address for Jaune's tome. This was one of the only times Pyrrha had ever been glad that all communications with her Patron went through Miss Gerson; the nerve-wracking task of obsessing over a blank page was left to her attendant.

A chime rang through the room, and for the briefest of moments, Pyrrha thought it was the clock striking the hour. That moment was enough for a mild panic--was it seventeen o clock already?--before she realized it was the doorbell. Feeling a little embarrassed, Pyrrha pulled herself out of bed and made her way downstairs. At least it was something to do. As she approached the door, she took just a minute to run her fingers through her hair, trying to tidy it up a bit. It was part of her job to be presentable in public, even if she was off duty right now.

The young man on her doorstep was dressed in a worn blue uniform that she supposed had been darker and richer in color before it had faded to its current hue. He carried a sizeable box secured by a buckled leather strap, and a white envelope on top of it, and a leather emblem on the strap of his satchel identified him as a courier.

**"I have a delivery for Miss Pyrrha Nikos?"**

**"I'm Pyrrha."** She held out her arms, and the man handed over the package. Pyrrha could see, with some relief, that the envelope on top had been sealed with a double crescent embossed in the wax.

 **"Thank you,"** she told the man, then turned as she heard footsteps across the room. **"Miss Gerson, your timing is excellent."** She walked away from the door, though the man raised a hand as if to stop her, and met her attendant in the middle of the room.

**"Lord Arc has just finalized your appointment--"**

**"I gathered,"** Pyrrha said, shifting the parcel in her arms to drive the point home. **"Can you do me a favor and tip our visitor? I'll take this into the dining room and have a look."**

**"Of course, Miss Nikos. I'll be along shortly."**

Pyrrha carried her package into the dining room and set it on the table. She turned the envelope over in her hands a few times, then set it down and instead began to unfasten the strap holding the parcel closed. She lifted off the lid to see a rippling pile of lush red satin. It seemed to be a dress, no doubt to be worn to her purification. She ran her hand gently through the box, checking around for accompanying garments. As her fingertips brushed against leather, she heard footsteps approaching and turned her attention back to the letter.

Miss Gerson walked into the room just as Pyrrha broke the seal on the envelope and unfolded the letter. **"May I?"** she said, reaching a hand out for the paper, but Pyrrha pulled back slightly and began read its contents aloud.

 **"Miss Nikos, your presence is expected at Crescent Court this evening for your purification. A carriage will arrive at your residence at twenty-one o' seven, and you will arrive by twenty two o clock. You will eat dinner at your own residence at least an hour--well that goes without saying--at least an hour before departure. You will spend the night in the guest quarters at Crescent Court which have been reserved for you for such occasions..."** Pyrrha paused and re-read the sentence, mouthing the words to make sure she hadn't jumbled them. But, no, it was already a bit of a jumble; that happened sometimes when Jaune was trying to be formal. Satisfied, she pressed on.

 **"...for such occasions, and you will join the Arc family for breakfast the following morning."** Pyrrha began to mumble as she skimmed through the next part, which she could have gathered without being told in a letter. **"Specifics of your departure will be determined in the morning depending on schedule and availability of the Estate's carriages, but transportation will be provided and you will be returned to your residence no later than twelve o clock..."**

She cleared her throat before proceeding with the instructions she actually needed. **"You will wear the garments which accompanied this letter, as well as the black Montijo stockings and the Pugh gloves already in your possession. You will select shoes to your own taste. Signed, your Patron, Lord Jaune Arc."** Pyrrha looked up at Miss Gerson, now letting her attendant take the letter when she reached for it. **"Which gloves were the Pugh again?"**

 **"The, sheepskin ones,"** said Miss Gerson, though her attention was more on the letter than the conversation. Before Pyrrha could press her to be more specific, she added, **"Long, brown. I'll show you."**

**"Thanks. I think I remember them, but maybe you'd better show me."**

Miss Gerson sighed as she put down the letter. **"I wish he had let us know sooner. He would have had to contact the tailor and the courier some time ago, even if the clothes were mostly ready. He could have updated the schedule as soon as he knew."**

Pyrrha carefully lifted the dress out of the box. **"Yes. He probably just didn't think about the time frame; how many times is the letter the first notice we've had?"**

**"I'm just worried we won't have the time to cover your bruises."**

Pyrrha paused a moment before turning to Miss Gerson. **"Cover them?"**

**"Well, yes. It's too unseemly to be seen with yellow splotches all up and down your legs and stomach. But it will take hours to do all the makeup, and we'll probably have to water seal it as well--"**

**"Miss Gerson,"** Pyrrha said. **"Jaune** _**knows** _ **I'm injured. He arranged a house call from a surgeon, for Gods' sake, and he arranged my purification on very short notice. I think he has a pretty good idea what happened to me. What condition I'm in. Why would we spend hours hiding what he already knows?"**

**"Knowing and seeing are two different things. There are certain standards of appearance you are expected to adhere to--"**

**"Miss Gerson--"**

**"--and it is** _**my** _ **responsibility to make sure you do so. Besides, think about how Lord Arc will feel, to see your injuries. He'll feel responsible for them. Is that the kind of mood you want to set for your purification? A guilt trip?"**

They sat in sullen silence. 'He _is_ responsible,' Pyrrha wanted to say. 'He commissioned this whole expedition.' 'He picked the target, the timetable, everything.' 'I got hurt doing something he told me to do.' 'This is all his fault.'

She didn't say any of those things. They weren't fair. Being bitten, being beaten, being raped, those had been the result of her own carelessness. It was spineless to blame that on Jaune. And it was a risk she assumed every time she went to Remnant; this could have happened on any expedition, even one she had proposed herself. Besides, even if her contract had given her the freedom to refuse Jaune's commission, she wouldn't have. What she had brought back to Vale was worth risking her life for.

Eventually it was Miss Gerson who broke the silence. **"I know you don't care. I don't even really know if Lord Arc cares. But it would reflect badly on me, if I let you go out looking like that."**

Pyrrha gave a heavy sigh and put the dress back in the box, lifting the whole parcel up. **"Alright. Alright. We have about five hours. Let's get as much done as we can before dinner."**

* * *

Just before twenty-two o clock, a small white carriage rolled across a paved path that cut across a lush green lawn in the overfields. It pulled up to the terrace of a vast manor, every wall and column painted a pristine white; between the windows on the third floor, the golden symbol of a double crescent glistened in the starlight. It was real starlight, filtering through the translucent dome high above.

The carriage came to a stop at the front terrace of the mansion, and after a moment Pyrrha stepped out, carrying the black case in both hands. Her smooth brown gloves, made from a thin, supple leather, reached nearly up to her shoulders, tucking neatly into the lacy straps of her dress which looped around her upper arms. That same lace trimmed the bertha neckline of the satin gown which flowed behind Pyrrha as she walked up the stairs. Above that low neckline, she wore her golden gorget, now polished to a mirror shine, but otherwise her shoulders were bare. Her glossy crimson locks were styled in a thick ponytail, which fell past her hips despite her morning haircut.

Before she could even knock on the front door, it was opened for her, a butler ushering her into the familiar, warmly lit foyer of Crescent Court. **"Right on time, Miss Nikos. Lord Arc is expecting you."**

 **"Thank you,"** said Pyrrha. **"Shall I meet him in--"**

 **"Right here is fine,"** came a bright voice from the balcony overlooking the foyer. Pyrrha looked up to see a white-clad figure rounding the corner of the staircase and bounding down, two steps at a time, until he came to the landing halfway down the stairs. He reached up to straighten his smooth dinner jacket. He was dressed mostly in stark black and white, his dark vest and trouser contrasting with his shirt and jacket. The only real spots of color in his ensemble were the subdued ocher of his cravat, and the polished bangle around his left wrist--the color and style closely matched to the armored collar around Pyrrha's neck. Despite his tidy, formal clothes, his short golden hair was deliberately casual, carefully styled into the semblance of a tousled mess.

Pyrrha met Jaune's dark blue eyes only briefly before lowering her gaze. As he descended the rest of the stairs slowly, she took a knee, careful not to pin the satin hem of her dress as she knelt. She held up the black case towards him.

**"I take it your expedition was a success?"**

**"Yes, Lord Arc."** She held the case steady as Jaune undid the clasps and opened the lid. **"I'm pleased to present the Arc Estate with twenty nine memory cylinders from the Carillo Conservatory's collection of operatic compositions."**

As he closed the lid, Pyrrha glanced up to catch a glimpse of his warm smile. **"Great. I know it will take a while to know exactly what's on these, but I'm sure we've found something incredible."** He lifted the case from her hands and passed it to the butler who was approaching from behind her. Then he reached down to offer Pyrrha his hand. **"Now let's take care of--"**

**"Jaune!"**

Pyrrha did not look up at the feminine voice echoing down from the balcony, taking her Patron's hand without raising her head. Jaune seemed determined to ignore it as well. **"--of your aura--"**

**"Jaaaaaaaaauuuuune!"**

Jaune sighed as he pulled Pyrrha to her feet. He looked towards his sister up above--Pyrrha couldn't tell which one by just her voice. **"I'm in the middle of something,"** he said. Pyrrha thought she caught a tense edge to his voice.

**"You left your tome in the dining room and you keep getting notes and Saphron wants to know if you can watch Adrian tomorrow--"**

**"Yeah, fine, I will tomorrow, but I'm in the** _**middle** _ **. Of** _**something** _ **."**

There was a moment of silence, but even without looking, Pyrrha could feel Jaune's sister smirking. **"Hiii Pyrrhaaaa,"** she called in a teasing singsong.

After the slightest hesitation, Pyrrha looked toward the young woman and replied, **"Good evening, Lady Arc."** Pyrrha felt like she had to at least offer that much of a response, though Jaune clearly wanted nothing to do with the conversation. His gentle grip on her hand tightened, almost but not quite to the point of pain, and he led her up the stairs.

As they rounded the corner and began to ascend the steps to the third floor, Lady Arc's voice echoed out behind them. **"Good night you twoooooo..."**

Pyrrha quietly followed Jaune for a moment. When she felt Jaune's grasp loosen a little, she thought that speaking wouldn't agitate him any further. **"Where are we going?"** she asked. Most of her visits to Crescent Court had been to Jaune's suite on the second story, or to the breakfast or dining rooms on the ground floor. She had never been to the third story before.

 **"You'll see,"** said Jaune. It was a frustrating answer, but the excitement in his voice made it hard to be that annoyed.

So Pyrra waited as she was led through to the starboard wing of the manor, which was dimly lit and deathly quiet. It wasn't dusty, but it didn't seem lived in either. Except for one room; as they made their way down the hall, Pyrrha could see light streaming out from under the last door on the left. It was to that door that Jaune led her. He turned back to her with a smile before opening it.

A wave of hot, dry air washed over her. The room Jaune led her into reminded her more of a bath house than her own bathroom at home; the center of the room was dominated by a recess in the tiled floor, large enough to comfortably seat half a dozen people. An outcropping that lined the edge seemed to serve double duty as stair and bench. The oppressive heat of the room could be traced to a large iron furnace built into the wall, the red glow of its heating coils visible through the grate.

 **"Take off your shoes,"** Jaune said, letting go of Pyrrha's hand as he knelt down to untie his own. She had an easier time of it, simply stepping back out of her heels and pushing them to the side with her foot.

As she waited, she saw Jaune slipping of his socks as well, and asked, **"Stockings as well?"**

**"No. I would have told you."**

**"Of course."**

Setting his socks and shoes to the side, Jaune stood up and reached out for Pyrrha's hand. He led her towards the pool, but stopped short at two basins affixed to the top of silver pedestals, each with a polished ladle in it. Pyrrha glimpsed a metal tray on the floor behind one of the pedestals, though from her angle she couldn't make out what was on it--especially as Jaune stepped towards the pedestal, blocking her view as he drew a scoop of water and offered the ladle to her. **"Thirsty?"**

Pyrrha took the ladle and sipped at the water as Jaune turned to take the other ladle for himself. He drank a little over half his scoop, then lifted the ladle over his head and dumped what remained over his hair and shoulders, heedless of the water dripping across his jacket. He put the ladle back, then reached out for Pyrrha's; she handed it over and he set it in the other basin. Then, with a slow, deliberate pace, he circled around behind her. Pyrrha stood still, hesitant to even breath while she waited.

Even though she knew what was coming, she jumped slightly as she felt Jaune's fingers tugging at the back of her gown, beginning to untie the laces that held it tight around her shoulders. She felt some trepidation over the dress coming off, but she wasn't sure if she wanted to stall or hurry to get it over with. Given that, overall, she wanted to get her entire purification done as soon as possible, she decided to hasten things along. Once Jaune had undone the first lace, Pyrrha reached up to the neckline of her dress to help pull it off. Her fingertips had barely brushed fabric when Jaune's arms encircled her shoulders and his hands clasped her wrists. **"I didn't tell you to do that,"** he said, a quiet murmur nearly half an octave deeper than his usual speaking voice. With his arms around her, her back against his chest, Pyrrha was almost enveloped by him, and by the sharp, warm scent of his lemongrass cologne, which cut through the subtler aroma of lilies that still clung to her hair and skin.

In this position, Pyrrha was reminded of how _large_ Jaune was. With her heels on, she could almost match his height--even surpass it in some of her more outlandish stilettos. But barefoot like this, he had four or five inches on her, with a chest broader than her shoulders, and his firm hands dwarfed her slender wrists. Yet despite the difference in size, Pyrrha was stronger by far. But to pull out of her Patron's grasp would have been unthinkable. Instead, as Jaune carefully lowered her hands to her sides, Pyrrha offered just enough resistance to make him strain, to let him feel like he was overcoming something. She hoped he didn't have any delusions that he was really overpowering her; she just wanted his attempt to assert himself feel a little more satisfying.

Letting go of her wrists, Jaune went back to her laces, this time starting at her waist and working up. Pyrrha lowered her head and waited, stewing in an uncomfortable clash of impatience and hesitation. Jaune had bought the dress, so she assumed he knew its design, and knew that it could be put on or taken off with only two or three laces undone. His insistence on untying every lace was probably a deliberate attempt to make her squirm. And it was certainly working.

When the last lace came undone, Jaune tugged at the neckline of the gown from behind, pulling the soft satin taut against her bosom. Then he slowly pulled the dress down, dragging the lace ruff over her breasts. Pyrrha shuddered as the folded layers of cloth tickled over her nipples. Normally she would have had a chemise on beneath her dress, and drawers as well, but there had been none in the parcel, and Jaune's letter had made no mention of them. She might have assumed he meant to leave the choice up to her, but his note about shoes made the omission seem deliberate. And any doubt on the matter had been laid to rest by the cotton padding that lined the interior of the brown leather corset.

The red satin dress rustled to the floor, leaving Pyrrha in an outfit that made her feel more exposed than mere nudity ever could have. Long, translucent black stockings clung to her legs, affixed to a lace garter belt around her waist; her groin and rear remained completely bare. Her breasts were equally exposed; the corset wrapped snugly around her stomach stopped just beneath them. Its color perfectly matched her shoulder length gloves. The golden gorget, of course, remained securely around her neck; a Huntress never removed her collar while she was working.

Jaune's fingers settled at the top of her stockings, and he began to slide his hands up her legs and hips. As he reached the bottom of her corset, his fingers trailed up the seams along the sides, dancing over the subtle bumps of the leather laces; almost instinctively, Pyrrha raised up onto the balls of her feet, as if lifted by his hands. When he reached the top of the corset and brought his hands around to cup her breasts, Pyrrha let herself fall back against his chest, head hanging back on his shoulder. Her breath started to come quicker as he caressed her, leaning down to plant a kiss on her bare shoulder. He pulled his head back and shifted around to the other side, but turned to kiss her cheek, avoiding the bite marks on her left shoulder.

Then he slid his hands back to her sides, holding her steady as he pulled back; once her footing was secure, he let go and walked over to one of the pedestals. **"Go ahead and move your dress out of the way."** As Pyrrha disentangled her feet from the discarded satin gown, shoving it to the side with one foot, Jaune stooped to slide the tray around the pedestal, resting it nearer to her. Pyrrha didn't quite recognize all of its neatly arranged contents; the assorted pieces of brass and glass were certainly new to her. But many of the various accoutrements of leather and silk were fairly familiar to her at this point, including the one that Jaune plucked from the tray and carried with him as he circled around behind her. He took her by the wrist once again, pulling her hand behind her back and fastening a leather manacle around it.

This time Pyrrha didn't bother to play at resistance, freely allowing Jaune to pull her other hand behind her and cuff her wrists together. He ran his fingers up her smooth leather gloves; at the left, he stopped just as he reached her skin, but on the right he continued along the curve of her shoulder. There was a thin sheen of sweat on her skin, though it was largely evaporating in the dry heat. Jaune settled his hand on her shoulder, and curled the other hand gently around her upper arm.

**"On your knees."**

Jaune's tone was gentle, a reminder more than a command as he began to push down on her shoulder, but his calm confidence brooked no disagreement. His hands served as much to steady her as to push her as Pyrrha carefully lowered herself; with her hands cuffed behind her, the balance was a bit tricky.

Once she was settled into a kneeling position, her thin stockings only barely softening the touch of the stone tile beneath her knees, Jaune let go of her and circled over to the tray. He took a shallow brass bowl, full of dried leaves and twigs and mounted on three brass legs, and set it on the tile. Taking up a flint and steel from the corner of the tray, he began to strike them, until the contents of the bowl began to smolder. Before too much smoke could rise up, Jaune placed a charred metal grate over the top and settled a glass chamber on top of that. The glass was laced with spirals of copper wire.

Jaune stood up and walked back to the basin, drawing up a ladle of water and sipping it. Then he lowered the ladle to Pyrrha's lips, and she drank what remained. As he tilted it to help pour the water into her mouth, the point on the rim where his lips had touched approached Pyrrha's nose, and she thought she could catch the faintest whiff of his warm, citrus scent.

Dipping the ladle back in the basin, Jaune filled the glass chamber with water, then crouched down and turned a small knob at the base of the device. The copper wires began to glow a dull red, and within moments the water started to bubble. Jaune took a domed piece of brass from the tray and set it over the glass chamber as a lid. As steam began to waft through a series of holes in the dome, Jaune slid the completed device across the tile towards Pyrrha, settling it almost between her knees.

Jaune took a strip of black cloth from the tray and circled around behind Pyrrha as the vapor started to reach her nose; the scent was not as harsh and acrid as she had feared, but it was certainly _strong_ , a cloying sweetness that failed to mask a note of bitterness. The aroma alone was enough to make her feel light-headed, but that was nothing compared to the heat that was beginning to take root in her chest and spread slowly through her body.

As she was trying to process that sensation, her world went dark as Jaune lowered something over her eyes from behind. **"Mouth open,"** he said as he began to secure the silk blindfold. **"Breath deep."**

Pyrrha obeyed, taking slow, deep breaths of the vapor, holding each in her lungs as long as she could before letting it out. The heat spreading through her body, building now in her gut and slowly starting to make its way down between her legs, put her in mind of what she had been through in the jungle, but it wasn't the same. The feverish heat from the Grimm toxin had been oppressive, weighing down on her, but this heady sensation seemed to gently buoy her; she felt herself drifting away weightlessly, with the world falling away bit by bit below her. She could see nothing through the blindfold, and if Jaune was making any noise, it was drowned out by her own increasingly ragged breath. The only thing that grounded her was the periodic touch of the ladle to her lips, the cool water filling her mouth and pouring down her throat. Aside from that, she had no sense of the passage of time, and in her light-headed daze, she was scarcely aware of her own body.

Until Jaune touched her.

It was barely anything, his fingertips settling into the narrow gap between her corset laces and brushing gently against her skin, but Pyrrha flinched away from his hand with a gasp. She wished she could say it was because of the surprise of being touched so suddenly, but it was far more the jolt of pleasure that surged through her skin.

Her sudden movement threw her off balance, but before she could correct herself, Jaune's hand was on her shoulder to steady her. **"Careful,"** he said, his voice coming from just behind her. Pyrrha shivered as his breath blew over her ear. Once she had regained her balance, Jaune slid his hand along her shoulder and up her neck. As he cupped her chin in the palm of his hand, she was suddenly embarrassingly aware of the stream of drool down her jaw. Pyrrha groaned, though the sound was muffled as Jaune slid two fingers into her mouth. He worked his fingers back and forth along her tongue and teeth, and she dizzily bobbed her head to his movements. The hand at her side crept up, though she could feel only a faint pressure against the leather of her corset, until he reached the underside of her breast. Her muffled pants started to become moans as he traced his fingertips over her sensitive skin.

 **"Nnnnn..."** A needy whine escaped from her throat as he cupped his hand over her breast, catching her nipple between the cleft of his fingers. He gently shifted and squeezed it, before adjusting his hold to give her hardening bud a pinch. With a stifled yelp, Pyrrha doubled over, almost choking on his fingers as she lurched forward. A renewed stream of saliva drooled out over his fingertips, and a similar stream began to run down her inner thighs as he pinched and teased the little bud. **"Nnn! Nnn! Nn... ha..."**

After a few moments of indulging in her reaction, Jaune slid his hand down and looped his arm around her torso, pulling her upright once again. He slipped his fingers from her mouth and instead cupped her jawline with slimy fingers, tilting her head back slightly with his palm resting firmly on her collar. His other hand began to stray downward, past the bottom of her corset, over the lace of her garter belt, settling two fingertips delicately on the skin just above her drenched pussy. He held them there just long enough for her to squirm with anticipation. When she uttered a pleading whimper, he slid his fingers down along her slit. Pyrrha trembled and moaned as he stroked her; when his fingers were soaked with her desire, he began to push them inside of her. Even over her own sudden gasp, she could hear her juices splattering against the tile as the lips of her pussy were parted.

Despite her arousal, the intrusion hurt a little. As the surgeon had predicted, her insides were still sore, still tender, more than even the bruises on her skin. But in her dazed, light-headed state, that almost made it better, like a note of bitterness bringing out the sweetness of a chocolate. She fell back against his chest, leaning her head back on his shoulder, dimly aware of his bare, sweat-slicked skin against her shoulders. Dimly aware of the hard length that her shackled hands fell against, and how it rose slightly in response to her touch. At some point while Pyrrha was getting lost in the vapor, Jaune had stripped down to the bangle on his wrist.

But that information barely registered to her; the only parts of Jaune that Pyrrha could really focus on were the ones inside her, the digits that pumped and teased and twisted and explored. Her back arched and her hips bucked as the pleasure mounted higher and higher. Her short, panted moans grew faster and faster, her chest heaving with each breath. **"Aah... aah... haa... aah, aha... ah... AHH!"** With a strangled squeak, her entire body tensed; she stood rigid for a moment, before her convulsive climax washed over her, a haggard groan erupting from her lips.

She went limp, slumped against Jaune as she tried to calm her breathing again, trying to regain some sense of control, of reality, as the aftershocks of the orgasm still quaked through her body. Jaune waited until she stopped shaking to pull free of her pussy; Pyrrha trembled all over again at the sensation of his fingers sliding across her passage one more time, and then at the lack of sensation. The sudden aching emptiness of that absence scared her. She enjoyed this part of her job well enough, and Jaune had never let her go unsatisfied, but she had never _needed_ this. Needed him. But tonight? Gods, _Gods_ she needed more.

It was lucky, then, that Jaune had not yet indulged in his own pleasure.


	8. Responsibility and Desire

When her breath was starting to return to a normal pace, when her body began to still, Jaune pressed his hands gently against Pyrrha's back. Her body lit up anew, but she was able to control herself as he pushed her forward, and she settled into an upright position without resting her weight on him. He stood up behind her, and she could hear his bare feet padding against the tiles. There was a quiet splash of water, and he pressed the ladle to her lips again. Pyrrha drank greedily, gulping it down until he pulled the water back. **"Careful. You'll get sick, and we're not done."**

She found her mind too hazy and her breath to shaky to form a coherent reply, so with a shuddering breath she nodded to show her understanding. When she felt the metal against her lips again, she drank more slowly.

 **"Good,"** he said. Once she had finished, she could hear him draw up another scoop of water and take his own sip, before setting the ladle back and circling around behind her once more. After a moment, she felt his hand settling between her breasts and against her sternum; even that sent a shockwave of pleasure through her chest.

 **"Bend over,"** he said. **"I've got you."**

Obediently, Pyrrha bent at the waist, lowering herself until her body was parallel with the floor. At that point, resistance from Jaune's hand let her know she had gone far enough. Although she trusted him to hold her steady if she started to collapse, he wasn't actually supporting her weight, and her bruised abs ached at the strain of holding herself doubled over like this. She didn't know how long she could hold the position. She didn't know how long she could wait for this.

Even though she knew it was coming, Pyrrha couldn't help gasping as the head of his cock brushed against her slit. He rocked his hips to slide it back and forth between her legs, his knuckles rubbing against her pussy where he was holding his shaft steady. Eagerly her body gushed with more fluids, soaking his cock in just a few strokes. Seemingly satisfied, he pressed the head more firmly against her opening. She took a deep breath to brace herself, and thought she heard him do the same.

As Jaune thrust into her, Pyrrha _squealed_ with pleasure. She bucked forward involuntarily, likely bruising her sternum against Jaune's hand, but without that hand she would have collapsed onto the burning brazier, or split her skull on the stone tiles. Jaune took his hand off his shaft, now that it was no longer needed to guide himself, and smacked it down on her rear as he buried his cock to the root in her pussy. Pyrrha's back arched and her toes curled with the secondary thrust, and ragged gasps poured from her lips as drool poured down her chin. **"Haa... haa... haa... ahh... haa..."**

After a few seconds to catch his breath, Jaune lifted his hand from her bottom, and a moment later she felt it clasp around her slender forearm, just above the leather manacle. He slid his other hand from her sternum, giving her nipple a pinch as his fingers passed over it and eliciting another groan, then grabbed her other arm. He drew his hips back, then rocked them forward, pulling Pyrrha into the thrust.

It hurt. Of course it hurt; the strain on her shoulders, the cock plunging in and out of her bruised cunt, these things _hurt_ . His fingers alone had been painful. Jaune may not have been a colossal beast of pure lust, but he was large enough to _fill_ her, especially as her passage clamped greedily down on him. Even in her hazy state, it was past the point where it could enhance the pleasure. But it didn't seem to detract from the pleasure either. And she _needed_ this right now. If a little more soreness was the price to sate this desire, then she would bear it.

Little by little, Jaune quickened his pace, and little by little, her gasping cries rose to a fever pitch. **"Aah! Aah! Aa! Aah! Ah, na, aah! Ah!"** Finally, Jaune let go of one of her wrists to once again smack his hand down on her ass. Every few thrusts came another blow, and with each blow Pyrrha tightened like a vice around his cock, until finally he froze, with his hips pressed tightly against her groin and his hand clapped soundly against her stinging buttock. He twitched, breathless, then with a gasping groan unloaded himself inside her. As the thick, hot liquid poured into her sopping cunt, her own excitement came to a head; Pyrrha tensed, then went limp, a tidal wave of bliss washing away all the tension in her body as she reached her climax.

Her eyes fluttered beneath the blindfold, her breath coming in trembling gasps. She could hear that Jaune's breathing was nearly as heavy as her own. Another shudder of pleasure ran through her body as his cock shifted in her--or rather, as her pussy shifted around him. She was dimly aware that she was being lowered gently, until her forehead approached the ground. She turned her head so she could lay her cheek against the tile, smearing herself with a puddle of her own drool.

Jaune put his hands on her hips, and Pyrrha quivered as he pulled free from her. He kept his fingers in place for a few moments. "You steady?"

Experimentally, Pyrrha tensed and untensed the muscles of her thighs and calfs, wriggling her hips and shifting her knees until she was confident she wouldn't fall over. **"Uh huh,"** she murmured meekly, almost unintelligible amidst her heavy panting. But Jaune must have understood her, because he let go and stepped away. She could hear him gulping down a ladle full of water, then he walked back to her side. She could hear him settling into a sitting position, his sweat-slicked skin sliding and smacking against the tile, before he gave a contented sigh.

She felt his hand on her shoulder, rolling her onto her side and settling her head in his lap. She could feel his shaft pressed against her cheek, not as hard as it had been moments before but still fairly firm. She couldn't help drooling as the heady scent of their mixed fluids wafted over her nose, though the faint scent of lemongrass still cut through the odor of sweat and cum.

The ladle came to her lips, and she drank eagerly, though she did her best not to rush it. **"Give me a few minutes,"** Jaune said. **"Then we can go again."** He paused as she finished the water, and he pulled the ladle away. **"Unless you've had enough?"**

Pyrrha was... tired. More than that, she was content. Or at least, she had been, until the possibility of more had been dangled in front of her. With the mere suggestion, her body lit up with anticipation, and she reflexively clenched her thighs together as liquid heat started to pool in her groin once more. With a pitiful groan, Pyrrha shook her head.

**"That's what I thought."**

* * *

By the time he finally let her rest, she was well and truly lost in the pleasure. She didn't know how many times she came, or how many times he did, how many times he asked if she wanted to continue. She didn't know if it stopped because he finally grew tired of asking, or because she had finally sated the need that kept her asking, _pleading_ for more. She barely even knew that it had stopped at all. She didn't know how long she had been in that room with him, or where she had been before. She was less confident than she would have liked that, if someone were to ask her for her name, she would remember it.

Gradually, though, that haze faded, until a mild stinging sensation was enough to hook her and draw her back to reality. Pyrrha looked down at her shoulder, to see Jaune's silhouette, the color of his hair washed out in dim light. He seemed to notice her stirring, and pulled away the cloth he had been dabbing against her stitches. **"Does it sting? Sorry."**

 **"It's fine,"** she mumbled. Little by little she was taking in her surroundings. The subtly firm mattress beneath her and the silky sheets swaddling her reminded her of her bed at home, but the soft moonlight filtering through the picture window told her she was still in the overfields.

**"One of your stitches popped. I guess some of those positions put too much strain on your shoulders. But, we've got antiseptic to keep it clean, and I'll write Doctor Argent in the morning to apologize for messing up her work, and see if there's anything else we need to do."**

**"It's fine,"** Pyrrha repeated, though she was still mostly trying to get her bearings. She was starting to recognize this as her room in Crescent Court. Jaune must have carried her; her legs were too sore and shaky for her to have walked.

**"How do you feel? All purified?"**

Pyrrha paused to take stock of herself. She felt... sore, above all else, and tired. But it was the satisfying sort of exhaustion that followed a strenuous workout. And she felt content: her desire had abated for now, but the high of pleasure had not entirely faded. She felt good, she felt in control. She felt like she wouldn't be reduced to a quivering mess by trying to take a bath. She didn't know how long this would last--purification was a treatment, not a cure--but for now, and for the first time in weeks, Pyrrha felt like herself.

 **"I'm... good,"** she said. **"Tired."**

 **"Good."** He took her hands in his and planted gentle kisses against her knuckles. His lips against her skin sent a tingle of excitement through her fingertips, and for a moment she worried that tingle would crawl down her arms and spine and reignite the desperate need from before. Instead it stopped short at her wrists, which she realized were still slightly moist with numbing ointment.

 **"I'll let you rest,"** Jaune said, letting her hands slip from his fingers as he stood up. **"Your medicine box is on the dresser, I'm just down the hall if you need me, I'll come get you for breakfast, and, you already knew all that and I'm babbling. Uh. Good night."**

 **"Good night,"** Pyrrha murmured after him. She was only just beginning to realize, after he had taken her hands in his, that she was no longer wearing her gloves. At some point she had been stripped down to her silk stockings and her collar, and scrubbed clean of the sweat, drool, and cum that had painted her head to toe. That was nice, she supposed. She was certainly more comfortable like this, even if Jaune's cleaning hadn't been the most thorough. He had mostly stuck to the outside, and she could still feel thick, sticky, still-warm liquid inside her, slowly dribbling out from between her legs.

Pyrrha pressed her thighs together, savoring the warmth for as long as she could hold it inside her. Slightly comforted and supremely exhausted, it wasn't long before sleep took her.

* * *

Pyrrha drifted in and out of consciousness throughout the early hours of the morning, but didn't get out of bed until she heard a knock on her door, and Jaune calling to her. She got up and got dressed. Her clothes were stacked neatly at the foot of the bed, but she didn't want to come to breakfast in a satin evening gown. Besides, the padded lining of the corset was crusted with sweat and makeup; it seemed that Miss Gerson's water sealing had not held through hours of steam and sweat. She would wear something from the dresser. Once she had donned a white blouse and red skirt, she took a pill from her medicine box and headed down to the first floor.

The meal was lively, with most of the Arc family in attendance, but not particularly eventful. Jaune saw her off after breakfast, and she was home by mid-morning. She spent most of the day relaxing. She was still sore, still bruised, still quite exhausted--more so, honestly, after the intense couple of hours with Jaune the night before. But she didn't have anything to do; she could take it easy for a few days.

The weekend passed quietly. Jaune scheduled another house call from Argent on Sunday to check on her shoulder; the surgeon grumbled a bit about their lack of caution, but deemed her 'okay I guess.' She redid a few stitches, and suggested she would be back on Wednesday or Thursday to remove the lot.

By Monday Pyrrha was starting to get restless. More to the point, she was starting to get sensitive again. She started to notice as she returned to her room after lunch--a familiar warmth beginning to build between her legs, still so slight that she might have imagined it. But she definitely didn't imagine it as she took her bath in the evening. It still wasn't as bad as it had been when she was fresh out of the docking bay, but she hadn't expected to have to deal with these sensations again so soon.

At dinner on Tuesday, Pyrrha asked Miss Gerson, **"Do I have anything scheduled for this week?"**

 **"Let me check."** Miss Gerson took out her book and flipped open to the weekly schedule. **"You have your appointment with Doctor Argent Thursday afternoon, and Lord Arc has blocked in a tentative appointment for Friday night. A party, I believe."**

She tried not to look crestfallen. Friday seemed so far away, and besides, Jaune usually just sent her home after a party. Normally Pyrrha was quite satisfied with that arrangement; after hours of working on her feet, hours more of working on her back did not appeal to her. But how long was he going to make her wait? What condition would she be in by that point?

 **"Did you have something planned?"** Miss Gerson asked.

She hadn't, but she also wasn't ready to tell her attendant that she might need another round of purification already. And it might be nice to have something to do other than lounge around her room and squirm. **"I thought I would go visit Nora tomorrow. If she's available, of course, I don't know if she's even on Vale right now."**

**"Hm. Are you sure you wouldn't prefer to invite her over? It would be less complicated to arrange, considering her contract, and you wouldn't be indisposed as long."**

**"I see what you mean,"** Pyrrha said, doing her best to force a smile and keep the belligerent tension out of her voice. **"But half the point is to get out of the house for a while. Besides, I'm just talking about going over for tea. You can clear something like that yourself, you don't have to bother Jaune with it."**

**"As long as it's under three hours--"**

**"Three hours should be fine. Let me get my tome and write her, I'll let you know what time we've settled on."**

**"Very good, Miss Nikos."**

* * *

Pyrrha stood on the doorstep of the small uptown flat, waiting for her shallow, shaky breathing to normalize. After spending so much of the last week sitting or laying around, she had decided the walk to Nora's place would be good for her, but she was beginning to regret it. Half an hour, a trip of less than a mile, and the simple stimulation her drawers shifting against her groin had started to get to her. An aching heat had begun to burn between her legs, and she could feel a damp spot forming on her undergarments. But, that was covered by layers and layers of petticoats, so as long as she took the time to catch her breath before knocking, it would hopefully go unnoticed.

Her heart skipped a beat when the door flew open, revealing a diminutive young woman with short orange hair, a lacey pink dress, and a triumphant grin on her face. Before Pyrrha could say a word, she was swept up into a bone crushing-hug that lifted her off the ground.

 **"Pyrr-ha-I-missed-you-aah!"** Each syllable was punctuated by a tightening of the embrace, and Pyrha thought she could hear her corset creaking under the pressure.

 **"Hi Nora,"** she gasped. **"Need to breathe."**

 **"Naah, you're fine."** Despite her joke, Nora lowered Pyrrha to the ground, then turned and walked into the house. Pyrrha followed, somewhat grateful that she could now pass any trouble breathing as the aftermath of the hug rather than the walk. Nora led her past the staircase, into a cozy parlor furnished largely in white and pink, from the cushions on the chairs, to the table cloth, to the heart-patterned wallpaper. Most notably, the door in the back leading to Nora's bedroom--which, in the identical floor plan of Pyrrha's flat, would have been the kitchen--had a large, bright pink heart painted across it, with a jagged white line down the center.

The symbol matched the design of the rose gold charm that hung from Nora's collar. Pyrrha had never seen her friend without it, and it tended to make her feel self-conscious about the bareness of her own throat. Like she was interrupting something, or like she was under dressed for an occasion. Then again, if her collar were an unobtrusive strap of white leather, rather than a heavy metal gorget, she might consider wearing it in her off hours as well. Or she might not. There was something intrusive about wearing a mark of her contract. Pyrrha needed some time to herself, without that reminder of Jaune's presence hanging around her throat.

Nora pulled out a chair for Pyrrha at a small table, upon which a floral-patterned china tea set was laid out, along with an assortment of light fluffy pastries. **"Okay!"** Nora said as she threw herself into her own chair; for a moment Pyrrha thought she was going to break it. **"We have croissants and danishes and stuff and two kinds of tea and I do not know the difference."**

 **"I'm sure they're both good,"** Pyrrha said, reaching for one of the teapots and lifting its lid. She lifted the lid of one pot, and caught a whiff of floral scent from the amber liquid within. She replaced the lid and did the same for the other pot, which contained a darker tea with a slightly musty scent. Pyrrha replaced the lid and began to pour herself a cup from that pot; Nora shrugged and poured from the other. As Nora stirred a generous spoonful of sugar into her cup, Pyrrha added just a pinch to her own, and followed it up with a dash of cream. She took a lemon wedge, carefully squeezing a splash of its juice into her cup.

**"So, how long have you been back?"**

**"Almost a week. Sorry, I should have written you sooner--"**

**"Oh, no that's not it. I'm just trying to figure out what I can get away with. Like, if I told you The Mad Queen took over while you were gone and set us on a collision course with Atlas, and we'll crash any day now, you wouldn't believe me."**

Pyrrha chuckled. **"Tell me anyway."**

 **"While you were down on Remnant, the council deposed the Regent and reinstated the Queen, who promptly had them all executed and had Vale's orbit changed. We'll crash into Atlas any day now."** Nora picked up a danish off a platter. **"I have decided to spend my last days eating pastries without shame or regret."** She shoved the entire thing into her mouth, and Pyrrha was a bit impressed to see that she got only the slightest smear of jelly on her cheek.

Pyrrha leaned forward to take a croissant. **"So what really happened while I was out?"**

 **"Well, not a crash, but we** _**did** _ **rendesvous with Atlas while you were gone, and that's been the big news for** _**weeks** _ **.** _**So** _ **many people coming and going, like I think the Schnees are back in town... also every painter, poet and playwright on _both_ stations decided it was a great chance to show off their new work. It was ex** _**haus** _ **ting, honestly, I got dragged to so many performances and exhibitions..."**

As Nora continued to recount the gossip and goings on of the past month, Pyrrha found it harder and harder to focus. Her breathing had steadied, but the heat between her legs hadn't gone away and it was getting distracting. It took more and more of her concentration not to squirm, or to do something even more embarrassing.

Eventually it registered to her that the room had gone quiet. Shit, how long had Nora been waiting for a reply? She forced her eyes to focus on the chair across from her, ready to apologize, only to realize it was empty.

**"Uhh..."**

**"PYRRHA!"**

Pyrrha jerked away from the sudden shout in her ear, toppling out of her chair and sprawling across the floor. She pushed herself back into a sitting position, running her hands quickly over her sides to make sure none of the supports on her corset had broken. Then she looked up at Nora, who was hovering over her with a concerned expression.

 **"Are you okay?"** Nora asked. **"You were totally spacing out."** She reached a hand down to Pyrrha.

 **"Sorry."** Pyrrha took the proffered hand, and Nora hauled her up to her feet--Pyrrha could never get used to how _strong_ she was. **"I was just--"**

 **"Tired from your expedition?"** Nora let go and headed back to her seat, as Pyrrha settled into her own. **"It must have been a rough one if you're still feeling it a week later."**

 **"It was, but that's not what..."** Pyrrha drummed her fingers on the table. She didn't want to lie to Nora, but she wasn't sure she was ready to explain. Then again, maybe there was nothing to explain. Nora had probably gone through the same thing more than a year before. And she was a friend, Pyrrha's closest friend. She would understand, she hopefully wouldn't judge, and she might have some advice.

**"Nora, how long does purification last for you? I mean, how often do you and Ren..."**

**"...ah."** Pyrrha was surprised to see Nora's overflowing energy fade into something more calm. She wasn't sure if it was comforting or unnerving. **"So it really was a rough expedition. Sorry. It doesn't really get easier from here. I mean, you get better at avoiding them, or at least I have, but if they do catch you... that doesn't get any easier."**

**"Sorry, I didn't mean to spoil teatime, or--"**

**"You're not spoiling it. It's okay to be serious sometimes."** Nora pushed the pastry tray towards Pyrrha, then looked up thoughtfully. After a while she said, **"I'm not sure I'm the best point of reference. Ren and I don't really do, 'formal' purification anymore? We just have sex and let it happen along the way."**

Pyrrha thought back to the elaborate show Jaune had put on the week before. On the one hand, very little of what he'd done had been entirely new to her, but on the other the intensity and duration had been a cut above their previous sessions. Jaune had really gone all out for her, and Pyrrha struggled to imagine a more typical night with him having the same impact. " **And that works?"**

 **"Well, it does for us. All you really** _**need** _ **for purification is for your auras to mingle. Get intimate, have a few orgasms apiece, and it should work. Everything else is just trimming."**

**"Okay. So, how often do you...?"**

**"Oh. Three or four times a week--"** Nora put her hands up as Pyrrha raised her eyebrows in alarm. **"Which I'm sure sounds like a lot! But some of that is just, you know. Because we like it."** Her face beet red, Nora lowered one hand to the table, settling the other at her collar and fiddling absentmindedly with the heart-shaped charm that hung against her throat. **"Less would probably work, if it was just for purification. Not sure how much less, but less."** She pulled away from her collar and took a sip of her tea. **"...so how long has it been since you had sex with Jaune?"**

**"Almost a week."**

**"No wonder you're distracted. Pyrrha, you really need to tell him you need another round."**

**"I know. It's just, he put so much work into it last time. And he did a really good job."**

**"I'm sure he did, but it is** _**his job.** _ **And he needs to keep doing it. Again, it doesn't have to be big and fancy and complicated. If your aura's acting up, invite him over and take him to bed."**

It was Pyrrha's turn to flush as red as her hair. **"I--I could never just--it's not as simple as--I don't even have a page for him!"**

She immediately regretted that last confession as a stern look came across Nora's features. **"You don't have a page. For your Patron's teletome."**

 **"No,"** Pyrrha said, shrinking under Nora's gaze. **"My attendant has it. And my housekeeper, although I don't usually--"**

**"That's not okay. Pyrrha, you know that's not okay, right? A Huntress should not need a go-between to talk to her Patron. What if you need something from him? Especially since, last I checked, you need his permission to do basically anything--"**

**"Some of that's delegated to--"**

**"--which is also not okay. I mean, you had to ask permission to come over for tea, right? Do you get how this is not okay?"**

**"I usually** _**get** _ **permission, though. To leave the flat, or to buy something I need, or--I can't remember a time he's turned me down. It's not that much trouble to ask."** She glanced up at Nora, whose disapproving eyes made her stomach twist. **"It's just that Jaune... no, never mind Jaune for now.** _**I** _ **signed the contract. I read it, I understood it, I knew what I was in for. And, I've seen what some other Huntresses have gotten roped into."** She dropped her gaze. **"It could be worse."**

There was a long silence, and Pyrrha was afraid to look up.

It felt like years before Nora finally spoke. **"...that doesn't mean you don't deserve better."**


	9. Among Poor Company

_Miss Nikos,_

_You will accompany your Patron to Autumnal Hall this Friday to attend a social function hosted by Lady Cinder Fall. A carriage will arrive at your residence at 17:43, and you will arrive by 19:00. Dinner will be provided by the host, with details, duration, and seating protocols determined accordingly. Specifics of your departure with your Patron from the function will be determined that evening based on the events and schedule of the function and any social opportunities which may arise, but transportation will be provided and you will be returned to your residence no later than 04:00 the following morning._

_You will wear the garments which accompanied this letter, as well as the Midien circlet already in your possession. You will select chemise and drawers to your own taste as well as a suitable corset. You will wear your hair in a braided bun._

_Signed, your Patron,_   
_Lord Jaune Arc._

* * *

Pyrrha read the letter over a few times. She had tried not to get her hopes up, and apparently failed. Now she tried not to look disappointed, which at least was something she was better at. This was an ordinary, routine invitation, which meant she could expect an ordinary, routine event, and that routine did not involve going to bed with Jaune afterward. It would be a long night, to be sure, but she should expect to head directly home as soon as Jaune tired of the after-dinner entertainment, probably well before four. Even if he did keep her out that late, it would be because he found some reason to stay late at the party. If he'd had any intentions for her afterwards, he would have instructed for her to stay the night. And he wouldn't have told her to pick her own undergarments if he was expecting to see them.

She should have said something. She should have brought up another purification with Miss Gerson as soon as she got home from tea the day before. It would have been embarrassing, but not nearly as embarrassing as bringing it up now, after the invitation had gone out and the matter had been settled. It was too late now; she couldn't possibly broach the subject until after the party, and who knew how much longer she would have to wait after that.

The frustration was almost enough for her to overlook the host of this gathering. _Almost_ enough. Lady Cinder Fall...

Pyrrha would have gladly gone her whole life without hearing that name again, let alone seeing the woman it was attached to. The prospect of leaving behind all the drama with Fall and Schnee had been part of the appeal of signing on with Jaune, who had seemed blissfully ignorant of the whole affair. And while the wealth and influence of any overfield noble sometimes seemed beyond comprehension, she recognized that there was a pecking order among them, and that the Arcs were near the bottom of it. Jaune should have been beneath the notice of the Mad Queen's daughter, and Pyrrha had not anticipated having to put up with the woman's company ever again. But would it be possible to avoid the host of a party for four, five, six hours?

Probably not, but she could be civil for that long if she had to. She could be professional, and refrain from making a scene that might reflect badly on her Patron. It would be just another night at work.

Pyrrha finally passed the letter across the table to Miss Gerson, pulling the parcel towards her and beginning to unwrap it. Shewithdrew the garment on top--a long white dress. She pinched and shifted the silky fabric in her hands, trying to get a feel for it.

 **"Not your usual colors,"** said Miss Gerson, glancing between the dress and the letter.

 **"No, but not the first time I've worn white."** She squinted at the fabric between her fingers. **"I think it's see-through."**  
  
 **"What?"**

 **"Well not all of it. Here, look."** Pyrrha stood and held the dress up higher, letting the light pour through the transparent sleeves and shoulders.

**"...is that the fashion now?"**

**"I suppose so. It could be some new Atlesian trend; I heard there was a lot of excitement around the recent rendesvous."** She shifted the cloth in her fingers, then laid the dress carefully down on the table. She rummaged through the other items in the parcel, taking stock of what Jaune had sent, trying to visualize how it would all look together. Finally she put the dress back in with the rest and picked up the parcel **"Okay. I'll go sort out the rest of the outfit, and set everything out for tomorrow. Shall we start making preparations at, let's say fourteen thirty?"**

**"Very good, Miss Nikos."**

* * *

At 17:43 (precisely, of course) the carriage pulled up to Pyrrha's residence. It was a bit larger than the one she had used last Thursday and Friday, too large for the narrow streets of the undercity. Pyrrha settled in to one of the wide benches, and the doors closed, the carriage rolling to life and carrying her on the familiar route.

Although Jaune's letter hadn't specified the details, Pyrrha assumed the carriage would head to Crescent Court to pick up Jaune, then head to Autumnal Court; it was very unlikely he would arrange entirely separate transportation. But it would be some time until the carriage stopped to him. Until then, Pyrrha was on her own.

It was _miserable_. Throughout the day, she'd had plenty to do, plenty to distract herself from the heat building in her body hour by hour. Now, though, she was alone with her desires, with no refuge from the jolt than ran up her spine every time the carriage bounced on a cobblestone. By the time the carriage finally came to a stop at Crescent Court, she was red in the face, straining to control her breathing. Still, she had a few moments of stillness to try and calm herself, regain her composure before Jaune stepped in and settled in across from her.

He certainly made a striking figure; instead of his usual layers of white and black, with the occasional splash of cream or ochre, he was wearing white over white over white. Even his shoes were pristine, polished white. Here and there his outfit was accented with gold embroidery, especially the cravat, but there were a few details in his long jacket and gloves as well. And Pyrrha, dressed to match in her long gown of white silk, would make a most elegant accessory for his ensemble.

She too was adorned in gold embroidery, mostly around the waist and the neckline--or rather, the line separating opaque cloth from translucent. The thin, sheer silk over her neck, shoulders, and arms made Pyrrha feel more exposed than simply leaving them bare, even though it looked practically the same on her; thanks to the white tint of the cloth washing out the color of her already pale skin, the milky white of her arms and shoulders was barely distinguishable from the rest of the gown.

Aside from the dress, she wore a few pieces of gold jewelry--her circlet, ornamented with delicate chains, and a few slim bangles at her wrists. And of course there was her collar. Pyrrha hadn't been sure how well it would fit over the dress, whether it would snag or create an awkward gap of exposed flesh. Most of her work clothes, whether for Vale or Remnant, left her neck and shoulders bear for precisely that reason. But the neckline was high enough and the cloth slim enough that it fit comfortably under the gorget. Nothing exposed, and actually felt a little better than having the metal against her bare skin. She should mention that to Jaune for future consideration.

Of course, there were far more pressing things she should mention to Jaune, and she had no idea how she would work up the courage to do that, but maybe starting with dressmaking would be a good icebreaker.

Suddenly Pyrrha realized she could hear Jaune's voice, and struggled to follow what he was saying. **"--been to Autumnal Hall before?"**

**"What? Sorry."**

**"Have you ever been to Autumnal Hall?"**

**"Oh. No."**

**"Really? I thought you knew Lady Fall."**

**"Only professionally."** Pyrrha took a deep breath, leaning forward and striving to keep her focus on him. **"She was my physician when I was still in training, but she either came to my apartment, or met me at Ashcroft, or some other place that Lady Schnee arranged. I never got an invitation to her home or anything."**

**"Oh. I was hoping you give me some pointers; I want to make a good impression on our host."**

**"You haven't met her before?"**

**"We've been at the same party before. We've never been properly introduced."**

**"Ah."** Pyrrha tried to think of a polite way to ask why he had even been invited, if he didn't know the host and was so far beneath her station. She wanted to know, but not badly enough to say something rude. **"...what's the occasion for this event?"**

 **"Well, apparently Lady Fall has just signed her first Huntress, a Miss Sustrai I believe. And she wants to celebrate the occasion. Like the one I had for you, although obviously quite a bit grander."** He lowered his head, folding his hands in his lap. **"We were probably invited as a formality; you usually invite every Patron and Huntress in Vale to this sort of thing. Whether or not they show up is another matter. I bet she didn't expect me to accept; I never have before."**

**"She's invited you to other events?"**   
  
**"Like I said, formality. Now and then, depending on the function, I'm a name on a list and she needs to check me off, but I don't think she actually expects me to show up. So usually I just don't bother her."**

Pyrrha wanted to ask more, like what was different this time to make him accept the invitation, but she didn't want to bring Jaune's mood any further down. Making sure he enjoyed his party was also part of her job, and focusing on her work helped keep her mind off the heat between her legs.

 **"I remember the party you threw for me. It was like nothing I'd ever experienced."** She smiled and leaned forward. **"I remember the champagne. My first taste of alcohol... it seemed so fancy. Everything did."**

Jaune looked up. **"Really? Your first drink?"**

She shrugged. **"I'd been in training since seventeen, and Lady Fall was very strict about my diet."**

**"What about sixteen? Fifteen? Not a little nip of your dad's brandy or anything?"**

For a moment, Pyrrha tried to picture her father sipping brandy like a delicate gentleman. She didn't manage not to laugh, but she managed to keep it to a gentle chuckle. **"I was worried about my liver. I wanted to be a Huntress, even then, and I needed to be at my very best."**

Jaune reached across the carriage and took her hand; her heart skipped a beat from his gentle squeeze. **"And now you're the best Huntress."**

* * *

Autumnal Hall was not that much larger than Crescent Court. In fact, if one looked at the grounds and not just the building, it was smaller. But one of those was the permanent residence for eight nobles and more than a dozen staff. The four story manor before Pyrrha was the domain of just one woman, though of course she would be sharing it with however many staff a she needed to maintain her royal lifestyle.

Pyrrha held onto Jaune's arm as she followed him up the steps. Through an expression and posture so practiced that it had become instinct (lean against him, don't cling, head down, eyes down, serene smile) she downplayed her presence and made herself an ornament, accentuating her Patron's presence. They were ushered through a rather expansive foyer; in Pyrrha's experience, they would normally have been announced to the host and given some small, polite greeting. But that didn't happen, and Pyrrha wasn't sure if this wasn't that sort of party, or Lady Fall wasn't that sort of host. Either way, they were led into a ballroom, with a grand staircase leading up to an overlooking balcony. The servant flipped quickly through what Pyrrha supposed was the guest book, then cleared his throat. **"Presenting Lord Jaune Arc, of Crescent Court, and Miss Pyrrha Nikos."**

Pyrrha was also not used to being introduced, save as "and guest", but as Huntresses seemed to be the theme of the party, she could understand it. She followed Jaune to a quiet corner of the room; only when he had settled in did she raise her head to look around.

Most of the guests were five, ten years older than her, or sometimes more. There were some she knew by reputation--the famous Miss Calavera, the infamous Lord Torchwick, the Malachites. Some she had seen in passing at parties, but she hadn't passed more than a few pleasantries with them and couldn't have told you their names. She presumed Nora and Ren had been invited, but either they hadn't arrived yet or they weren't coming. Even their host was absent, not that Pyrrha was in any hurry to see her. In the entire room, the only people Pyrrha recognized were people she would rather not have seen.

Of the men she knew, she generally found the towering man in crimson and gold to be the less vile of the two, though tonight he seemed to be making an effort to take the lead. Pyrrha was aware that Lord Winchester had a contracted Huntress, but she'd never seen the woman before tonight. She was a pretty young lady, with long brown ears and longer brown hair, wearing a gown in rust red and golden brown--more muted versions of her Patron's colors. Unlike every other Huntress in the room, she was standing back from her Patron, and Pyrrha suspected she would have been on the other side of the room if Lord Winchester hadn't _put her on a fucking leash._

It wasn't as though Pyrrha had never indulged Jaune in a bit of leash play. In her quarters, at Crescent Court. With the door closed. And locked. Not dragged through a dinner party on full display, with her neck visibly red and chafing from her collar. (The faunus had a slim band of black iron; Pyrrha couldn't imagine a worse collar to affix a leash to.)

No one would say a thing, of course. As far as these people were concerned, it was a matter between the Huntress and her Patron. You brought a Huntress to a party to show her off; this may have been seen as tacky, but fundamentally not any different from Jaune putting Pyrrha in a low cut dress that flaunted her cleavage. If anything, making a fuss about it would have been unforgivable, which was probably why the Huntress in question was simply hanging her head in silence.

Despite Winchester's best efforts, Pyrrha wasn't sure he actually managed to make himself more offensive than the red-haired man sprawled across a nearby couch. Pyrrha had never exchanged a word with him, nor with the black haired woman hanging from his neck. But there was no overlooking or forgetting Adam Taurus; the man lived on scandal. By the time people got tired of talking about the undercity laborer turned overfield noble, he'd started wearing the mask. A plate of white bone, red decals reminiscent of eyes (and Pyrrha swore she'd seen them glowing)... she'd always thought it was gauche, and after her last trip to Remnant, looking at it made Pyrrha's stomach turn. And she was reasonably sure that every other Huntress in the room shared that feeling. Wearing a Grimm mask in public was tasteless; wearing one in a room full of Huntresses was infuriating.

And making your own Huntress wear one to match was _sickening._

Not that Miss Belladonna seemed to mind. She wasn't tactfully, unobtrusively hanging off his arm; she was clinging to him desperately, her black-clad body pressed against his. She was slowly, subtly undulating, grinding against her Patron. And although her voluminous skirts hid her legs and waist, Pyrrha was pretty sure the cat-eared woman was straddling Taurus' thigh underneath. It was a pitiful display, but Pyrrha didn't feel as much pity as she should have. Instead she couldn't stop imagining a muscular thigh between her own legs, pressing her groin against it as she rocked her hips back and forth.

Pyrrha squeezed her legs together and looked away.

 **"I don't see our host,"** she said to Jaune.

 **"She's probably waiting for all her guests to arrive. Bet you anything she's going to make a grand entrance down the stairs."** Pyrrha followed Jaune's gaze to the staircase. As she peered into the shadowed alcoves of the balcony above, she thought she saw a glimmer of gold, though the thought she was just as likely to have imagined it.

**"Do you think--"**

Before she could ask Jaune if he thought Ren and Nora would be coming, she was drowned out by the announcement of some new guests; from the way Jaune tensed, the arm looped around hers squeezing her almost painfully, she guessed she wouldn't have gotten an answer anyway.

**"Presenting Lady Weiss Schnee, of Mistral, currently in residence at Ashcroft, Miss Yang Xiao Long, and Miss Ruby Rose."**

It was immediately perfectly clear to Pyrrha why Jaune had accepted this invitation in the first place. He was transfixed by the pale, slender woman who had just entered. It wasn't hard to see why; apart from being a renowned beauty, Weiss Schnee carried herself with a poise and gravitas that made her a commanding presence in any room. And she was accompanied by the most striking escorts. Schnee was far from the only noble to have signed on multiple Huntresses, but she was one of only two or three in attendance. And while it seemed every other Huntress in the room was dressed to match their Patron in some way or another, these two dressed to accent Schnee without simply mirroring her, or each other. Miss Xiao Long wore a backless white dress, held up by a single strap looped around the back of the neck. The layered skirt barely came down past her knees, putting her thin white stockings on display. Miss Rose dressed more conservatively in black, with a dark translucent stretch over her collarbone and shoulders, and long black gloves. The clashing colors of the two sisters were tied together by Lady Schnee's complicated ensemble of assorted grays--which, despite the extensive layering of different hues and transparencies around her chest and shoulders, had nothing in the way of petticoats. Instead she had opted for something simpler below the waist, a cheongsam style that hugged her hips and clung to the curve of her legs.

There was no denying the woman knew how to make a spectacle (and far more tastefully than someone like Taurus). And Jaune was completely enraptured by it. As the trio made their way through the room, Pyrrha leaned a little closer to him. **"Don't forget to breathe,"** she murmured into his ear.

She felt him shudder, and he tried not to cough as he sucked in a lungful of air. **"Right. Breathing. I knew that."**

**"Are you going to go talk to her?"**

**"Who, Lady Schnee? I couldn't. We haven't been introduced."**

**"I see."** She didn't see. Pyrrha had been taking etiquette lessons for five years and still half of this seemed nonsensical to her. **"Would it help if I introduced you? I do know her--again, only professionally, but..."**

 **"I'm not sure if that would be..."** He trailed off, seeming lost in thought. **"Not right now. I appreciate the offer, though. I'll consider it."**

 **"Alright."** She had meant to leave it at that, but after a few moments she was starting to grow restless again. Trying not to fidget, she said, **"It would give us something to do."**

 **"Do you** _**need** _ **something to do?"**

 **"I mean, it is a party. It seems like people are socializing."** She nodded towards some of the clusters of people beginning to form and gossip in various corners of the room. **"And I don't know anyone else here, do you?"**

 **"I know, uh,"** he glanced around the room, **"Cardin. We know Cardin, been at parties with him."**

 **"Do you** _**want** _ **to talk to Cardin?"**

**"No, not really."**

**"Me either. Why don't we, even if we're not striking up a conversation, why don't we make our way towards Lady Schnee, nice and casual, and see if an opportunity comes up. What do you think?"**

**"Yeah. We can do that."**

As cautiously as Pyrrha might have stalked through the wilds of Remnant, Jaune worked his way through the ballroom, taking care not to approach his goal too directly. Pyrrha followed dutifully, holding in a giggle at his tensed shoulders and serious expression. Truly a magnificent huntsman.

But not so magnificent as to elude the attention of his quarry. As they drew close, Lady Schnee's eye shifted towards Jaune and Pyrrha, and fixed on them just long enough for Pyrrha to be sure she had noticed. Then, rolling her eyes so melodramatically Pyrrha could see it from a side angle, twenty feet away, she turned to one of her Huntresses and whispered something. Miss Rose broke away from the trio and intercepted them. She gave a big smile and an enthusiastic wave, but she was also very clearly standing in their path, giving Lady Schnee a buffer from their presence. **"Hi!"**

**"Uh. Hello. Uh."**

Pyrrha wasn't sure if Jaune's stammering came from his surprise at being detected, or if he was getting hung up on introductions again. But she could only help him with one of the two, so. **"Miss Rose! It's been too long. May I introduce my Patron,"** she paused, running through titles and formalities in her head before jumping back in, **"Lord Jaune Arc of Crescent Court."**

 **"You may! Hi Jaune."** Jaune flinched at the informal address; even Pyrrha wasn't really supposed to be that familiar with him, though he didn't often correct her. **"Having fun so far? What's going on in Vale? We just got back from Atlas. Did you know no one puts cream in their coffee in Atlas? Apparently it's a Vale thing."**

 **"Uh. Uh."** Jaune glanced at Pyrrha, clearly floundering, but she didn't know any way to help him. **"Sure, things, I heard, I didn't know, I guess so, and is that everything?"**

Ruby held up one hand and seemed to be counting off on her fingers. **"Five out of five. Good work."**

Jaune opened his mouth to reply, but before he could attempt another disastrous foray into conversation, a voice echoed across the room from the balcony above. **"Presenting Lady Cinder Fall, and Miss Emerald Sustrai."**

The guests fell silent, so silent that each click of the host's stilettos on the staircase echoed through the ballroom. The Huntress who followed behind her, however, walked without a sound, even in heels. Pyrrha was impressed, envious even. The two came to a stop at the foot of the stairs, and Lady Fall golden eyes swept across the room. Her gaze lingered here and there, and when it fell on Pyrrha she had to resist the urge to step behind Jaune. Those eyes... like a cat looking at its prey. Not cruel, exactly, too dispassionate to be cruel, but fascinated, and eager for a bit of sport. It also did not escape Pyrrha's attention that Lady Fall seemed to be paying no mind to Jaune; she wondered if she was being singled out, or whether their host only had an eye for Huntresses.

There was no telling what Miss Sustrai was doing, or where her interest lay; despite the point of this gathering ostensibly being to present a new Huntress, her green bangs framed a black veil, of the same transparent fabric that made up much of her outfit. While many of the ladies in attendance were wearing outfits accented with panels of sheer cloth, Sustrai was perhaps the only one who clearly wasn't wearing anything under it, as evidenced by the generous swath of cleavage and abs visible through the shadowed window down her chest and stomach.

As Lady Hall finished appraising the room, she lifted a hand over her head--as if she were not already the center of attention in the room. **"Good evening everyone. I hope you're having a good time so far. Dinner is served, if you'll come this way."** She walked through the room, the crowd parting in her path. Lady Fall opened the doors to the dining room, then turned back to her guests. **"Come along."**

As people filtered into the dining hall two by two, the host gave each a brief greeting. Although, as Pyrrha got closer, her earlier suspicion was reinforced--with the exception of Taurus and Torchwick, Fall was greeting the Huntresses and ignoring their Patrons. That left many of them flustered or otherwise ill at ease, but Pyrrha steeled herself to be the focus of Lady Fall's attention.

She leaned forward to murmur to Jaune. **"When we reach Lady Fall, shall I curtsy for her? I'll have to let go of your arm."**  
  
 **"Hm? Oh, yeah, sure."**

**"You win, by the way."**   
  
**"What?"**

**"She made her grand entrance down the stairs, just like you said. You bet me** _**anything** _ **, remember?"**

The words were out of her mouth before she realized how she had said them, the breathy drop in pitch as she offered him 'anything.' She barely even used such a suggestive tone in the bedroom; it was entirely inappropriate here.

But if Jaune noticed he didn't say anything. He just chuckled. **"Not that you took me up on the bet, but thanks I guess. I win."**

Pyrrha tried to will the flush of embarrassment to leave her cheeks by the time they reached the door to the dining room, where Lady Fall was waiting. **"Pyrrha,"** she said, looking over Jaune's shoulder at the Huntress. **"It's been too long."**

Pyrrha forced a smile as she gave her best curtsy. **"Lady Fall, I hope you're doing well. I--"**

She was interrupted by a hand against her stomach, fingers pressing through her dress, curiously probing the muscles underneath. Fall's hand slid upward, coming dangerous close to the bottom of Pyrrha's breasts before the Huntress stepped back; the moment Pyrrha broke contact, Jaune angled himself between her and Fall.

Their host tossed her head to the side--mostly so she could see around Jaune's broad shoulders, though it made her smirk seem all the more derisive. **"Doesn't feel like I remember. Are you going soft, Pyrrha? It might explain your performance on your last expedition."**

Pyrrha's stomach twisted. Whatever heat had built up from embarrassment and libido was purged from her body in an instant as her blood ran cold. Pyrrha supposed that most of the details of her expeditions were a matter of public record, including the contents of her journal and the disheveled condition in which she had arrived in the docking bay. But even if the information was public record, you still had to go through the effort of looking it up; was Fall keeping tabs on her?

Jaune shifted a little, trying to interpose himself a little more directly between Pyrrha and fall without entirely losing his place in the queue to the dining room. **"Pyrrha's performance has been exceptional,"** he said. **"She--"**

He stammered to a stop as Cinder spoke over him, eyes still on Pyrrha. **"And what's that you're wearing? I can't say I'm not flattered, but..."**

Pyrrha glanced at her dress, then back to their host. From neck to waist, they were very similar designs, although seeing Lady Fall's up close made her feel like a cheap knockoff. The detailing of the brocade, the subtle gradients between different shades of red throughout the dress, even just the glossy shimmer of the fabric seemed to be on another level. And while it was hard to tell in the cozy lighting of the ballroom, Pyrrha could swear the gold embroidery in Fall's dress was actually glowing.

Below the waist, her garb was far less modest than Pyrrha's. It was similar to what Lady Schnee was wearing, a single layer of cloth hugging her hips and legs. It hung a little looser, though, thanks to the long slit up the side of the skirt, which went higher than her black silk stockings and displayed a scandalous glimpse of thigh.

For a moment, Pyrrha thought to point out that she had no personal investment in the outfit, but held her tongue. Even though she had spoken to Pyrrha, Lady Fall's comment had probably been meant for Jaune, and he certainly seemed mortified by it. Saying that she didn't care about the clothes he picked for her wouldn't help.

Instead she turned to the veiled Huntress behind Lady Fall, ignoring their host as best she could. **"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Sustrai. And good hunting to you."**

With that she took Jaune's arm again and leaned against his back, putting as much of her weight against him as she dared. _Go. Just go. We're done talking, walk past her, just go. Please._

It seemed Jaune got the message, as he gave a stilted but polite farewell and walked on into the dining room. Pyrrha half expected Lady Fall not to let them go, for those inquisitive fingers to close around her upper arm as she passed, tracing the shape of her deltoids and triceps. But they were allowed to pass without further molestation, and took their seats at the dining room table.

 **"What time is it?"** she whispered to Jaune. Absentmindedly, he dug a watch from his pocket and turned on its display for her. 19:54. An hour down. Who knew how much to go.

Pyrrha took a sip from the wine glass in front of her and did her best to settle in. This would be a long night.


	10. Parlour Games

Dinner was... tolerable. Pyrrha and Jaune were seated halfway down the table from Lady Fall, and so were largely spared her company or attention. And the food was good. Pyrrha had to admit that it was the best meal she'd ever had at one of these parties, decadent without entirely sacrificing nutrition. Moderate portions, filling without being heavy; lean cuts of poultry, with the skin broiled to a crisp; fresh vegetables, brightly colored and bursting with flavor; light drizzles of flavorful sauces. Recalling the strict diet Lady Fall had required of her when she was in training, Pyrrha supposed it made sense that she would have arranged such a menu for a gathering of Huntresses.

She couldn't focus too much on her own food, though, when she kept having to prompt her Patron to eat his. Jaune's attention was almost entirely on Lady Schnee, waiting for those moments when she wasn't looking so he could throw a starry-eyed glance her way. It was endearing, Pyrrha supposed, but she was getting tired of having to elbow him every few minutes so he would finish his plate before the next course came.

As the dessert course seemed to be winding down, a soft clanging rang across the room--the hostess was tapping a glass to draw everyone's attention. **"We have something special planned next. Since we're all gathered to present a newly certified Huntress to high society, an exhibition match seemed perfect for the occasion. With the permission of her Patron, Miss Belladonna has agreed to join Miss Sustrai for a round of Three Touch."** Murmurs spread across the dining hall, some excited or curious, though Pyrrha thought she caught a few bitter grumblings. They were silenced by another clang of the glass. **"However, having just passed her certification, and with scarcely a year of training, my Huntress is still a bit inexperienced. So I thought she'd be a better fit for the undercard."**

At that, Pyrrha couldn't help glancing towards the veiled woman. Had she really gotten her certification after a year of training? Pyrrha had never heard of a Huntress making it in less than three--even legends like Goodwitch or Calavera. Either Sustrai was woefully unprepared, or incredibly gifted.

Lady Fall had surely meant to imply the latter, despite the fake humility of downplaying her Huntress' talents. She continued, **"Now, who wants to volunteer for the main event?"**

A new chorus of murmurs echoed through the room, this time largely trepidatious. A quick glance across the other guests told Pyrrha that most of the other Huntresses were on the same wavelength as her. They hadn't come prepared to fight, and they had just eaten. The prospect didn't seem to appeal to most.

But it did seem to appeal to one, as after briefly conferring with her Patron, Yang got to her feet. **"I'd love a crack at the twins."** Her eyes were on the Malachite sisters, seated slightly diagonally across from her.

The two looked to their Patron, who leaned back with a shrug, letting the two of them exchange glances around him. The one in the feathered black collar leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. **"Pass,"** she said, with only the barest hint of disdain tempering her visible boredom.

 **"Pass,"** agreed the other sister, who was indistinguishable from the first save for her fluffy white collar.

 **"What a shame,"** said Lady Fall. **"A doubles match would have been great to see."**

 **"Oh, I meant I'd take em both together."** Yang slouched back into her chair, smirking across the table at the twins.

 **"Even better. Still, I have another proposal. As it happens, this evening we're playing host to two of the most celebrated prodigies of our generation. Doesn't everyone want to see what** _**that** _ **clash would like like?"** Pyrrha felt her stomach tense as she began to suspect what Lady Fall was building to, and her skin crawled when their host's golden eyes fell on her. **"Miss Nikos?"** Her glance was mercifully brief as Fall turned her attention to another specimen. **"Miss Rose?"**

 **"Oo!"** Ruby's reply was enthusiastic and immediate. **"I'm in!"**

Pyrrha leaned towards Jaune. **"Did your invitation say anything about this?"**

**"No, I would have mentioned it. You don't have to fight unless you want to; I know you're probably still sore from the expedition."**

Pyrrha was about to point out that she was more concerned about the food settling in her stomach, or the wine that was starting to go to her head, when something entirely unrelated occurred to her.

Was _that_ why he hadn't bedded her in a week? He was giving her time to recover? His concern was touching, if a bit condescending (how delicate did he think she was?), but most of all it was _frustrating_.

 **"Yes."** The word was out of her mouth before she even knew what she was saying yes to. **"It would be my pleasure."**

 **"Wonderful,"** said Lady Fall. **"Let me show you to the dressing room so you can get kitted up. And I suppose your Patrons had better come along and help you change."** As host and Huntress left, Lord Taurus also rose to his feet and followed her, Belladonna hot on his heels.

Jaune offered a hand to Pyrrha, who took it and stood with him **. "Okay then. If you're up to it, let's show them what you're made of."**

* * *

Changing room, Lady Fall had said. Room, singular. It hadn't really clicked for Pyrrha until she found herself sitting on a bench in a cramped compartment, with Jaune sitting behind her unlacing her dress, and Lady Schnee a few feet away doing the same for Ruby at another bench. In the cramped quarters, Lady Schnee's perfume was overbearing, the sharp, sweet scent of pine flooding Pyrrha's senses.

There _were_ other changing rooms, she was sure, because Sustrai and Belladonna had to be getting dressed somewhere and it wasn't here. But Pyrrha supposed it was just the two, or else Lady Fall didn't have much concern for their privacy. It was probably the latter, come to think of it.

As her dress loosened enough that she could get the rest off herself, and Jaune began working on her corset, he attempted to break the awkward silence. He turned to Schnee. **"So do you think--"**

 **"Eyes off my Huntress,"** Weiss snapped.

**"Right! Sorry. About looking, that is, I mean, I wasn't looking. I mean, not specifically, I was looking in, just, your general direction, which was--I didn't see anything--"**

**"And stop talking."**   
  
**"Right. Sorry."**   
  
**"'Sorry' is still talking."**

**"Sorry."**

Weiss gave an exasperated groan, but Ruby chimed in. **"It's not like I'm getting naked, Weiss, it's just my underoos."**

**"One, it's inappropriate for a gentleman to be watching a lady undress even if she doesn't mind; two, I really need you to call me Lady Schnee when you're working; and three, speaking as a friend, please do not say the word 'underoos' ever again in your life."**

**"No promises."**

Silence fell over the room again. Pyrrha could tell from his grip on her corset laces that Jaune was tense, though she couldn't tell whether that tension came from nerves, embarrassment, or even anger. Not without turning to look, and she didn't dare move. She was far too aware of Jaune's fingers at her back, how little separated them from her skin. She could almost feel the warmth of his touch on her, and even imagining it was sending a tingle of anticipation down her spine. If she didn't remain perfectly still, she was positive she was going to do something truly humiliating.

Ruby managed to strip down to her chemise and drawers a few minutes before Pyrrha, and began to don the garb that Lady Fall had provided. She was already starting to strap on the lamé plates by the time Pyrrha even began to put on her uniform. While Ruby seemed to find the hard plates a bit awkward, they reminded Pyrrha of her armor--especially over the snug red bodysuit that made up the rest of the uniform. The fact that their host had Three Touch gear ready in their sizes made Pyrrha suspicious that their host had very particular intentions about this match. Or, perhaps she had clothing ready for every Huntress who had shown up. She could certainly afford it, judging by the weapons rack that Ruby was already fawning over.

 **"Weiss! Weiss look at THIS!"** She uncoiled a large chain whip, each segment padded with a leathery substance. **"I thought I was going to have to settle for a staff but she has so! Much! Stuff! What should I pick?"**

**"I told you, it's Lady Schnee when you're working."**

Pyrrha reached past Ruby and pulled down two padded rods, one modeled after an arming sword, the other more comparable to a javelin. She shifted them both in her hands, trying to get a feel for their weight and balance. **"Pick whatever you're most comfortable with,"** she said. **"If we're going to do this, I want to see your very best."**

**"But they're all so shiny..."**

**"Miss Rose,"** Schnee said. **"We have weapons at home for you to play with."**   
  
**"I knowwwwwww... fiiiiiiine..."** With a resigned sigh, Ruby lifted a large scythe from the rack, handling it with surprising ease.

Pyrrha put the sword back in its place, taking a shield to pair with her spear. She would need the protection, and she would need the reach.

Weapon in hand, Pyrrha activated her lamé plates, striking the spear against them one by one. With each blow, the plate rang out with a brassy clang, and the bodysuit tightened, stiffened--just for a moment, locking the wearer in place just long enough for their sudden halt to be visible. Combined with the bell, it was a clear indicator to the audience that a point had been scored.

Pyrrha was beginning to regret agreeing to this; the suit squeezing down on her entire body was far more stimulating than she had anticipated, and it was getting hard to maintain her composure. But she was sure if she could get through the testing process, it would be alright. Just by the rules of the game, Ruby couldn't subject her to more than three of these, with time in between to return to their starting positions. She could handle that, and even that was the worst case scenario. Pyrrha was not only undefeated in Three Touch, she was _untouched_ ; no one had ever scored against her before.

With everything ready, there was nothing to do but wait fo's r the undercard to finish before going out for their match. Ruby set aside her scythe and ran to the door, peeking out to watch the fight. After a few moments, her awed expression and squeals of excitement lured Pyrrha over to watch as well. It seemed polite, supporting the new Huntress in her exhibition match. And it would distract her from the desires that were threatening to overwhelm her composure whenever she wasn't otherwise occupied.

 **"They're two and two,"** Ruby whispered as Pyrrha took her place by the door.

Although the Huntresses in the ring wore the same garb as Ruby and Pyrrha, she was surprised to see that Sustrai was still wearing her veil, and revolted to see that Belladonna was still wearing her mask. The two circled each other cautiously, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Belladonna's ears lay flat against her head; she was clearly taking this very seriously. Up above the pit that contained the arena, many of the other guests were watching with interest.

Even Pyrrha couldn't see what opening, what shift in posture or what moment of careless footing, provoked Sustrai to lunge forward. There was a frantic exchange of blows, Belladonna fending off the pair of hooked sickles long enough to duck under Sustrai's arm and run past her. As she turned to face her opponent, Belladonna hurled a sickle-like weapon of her own towards the lamé plate on Sustrai's back, but the green-haired Huntress spun around in time to deflect it. Belladonna hauled the weapon back by the strap of leather that tethered it to her other weapon, a bulky sheathe of sorts. It seemed like a rather complicated bit of gear; Lady Fall really did keep an impressive assortment on hand.

The two circled each other again. This time it was Belladonna who made the first move, though she didn't close the gap. She once again threw her chain weapon. Rather than simply deflecting it, Sustrai trapped it between the hooked ends of her weapons and _pulled_. Belladonna strained to keep her footing, but inch by inch her feet were slipping. Apparently seeing that holding her ground was futile, she leaped forward, letting her opponent's strength add to her momentum. But despite the speed of her approach, Sustrai seemed ready for it. With a quick twirl of her wrist, she shifted her grip to grasp both her own sickle and Belladonna's in her left hand, keeping her right sickle free to defend against the Faunus' attacks. The two danced in tight circles, looking for an opening, until finally Sustrai pivoted on her hip and let Belladonna lunge past her. Then she hauled back on the tether once again, just enough to throw Belladonna off balance. Which in turn bought her just enough time to reach over the faunus' shoulder and grab the other side of the tether.

The excited crowd fell into a ghastly silence as Sustrai hooked Belladonna's tether under her chin, beginning to choke the faunus with her own weapon. Belladonna gasped and gurgled as she was hauled back, her shoulders pressed to Sustrai's chest, then slowly forced to her knees. Pyrrha couldn't see the look on Sustrai's face, but she recognized the tension in the woman's trembling body--abject, desperate terror. She almost rushed into the ring, prepared to stop a murder.

Then she saw the masked Huntress gripping her sheathe in both hands and stabbing behind her, beneath her armpit and upwards towards one of Sustrai's plates. There was a loud clang as the suit registered contact, and locked up to paralyze Sustrai in place. It was just long enough for Belladonna to slip away from the choke hold, abandoning her weapons. She leaned against the wall of the pit, gasping for breath.

When she could move again, Sustrai took a dazed step forward. Her intentions were unclear, and Belladonna raised clawed fingers to defend herself. Then Lady Fall's voice rang across the room.

**"Point to Miss Blake Belladonna. Belladonna is the victor, three to two. Well done, both of you."**

With that, Sustrai dropped the various weapons she was holding and staggered back to a room on the opposite side of the pit. With the ghastly moment past, some of the guests clapped nervously. It was over.

Ruby sank to her knees. Schnee was at her side in an instant. She glanced out into the arena, took stock of Belladonna massaging her throat and wheezing for air. She glared up towards the railings above the pit; whether or not she could even see their host from this angle, there was no doubt who that icy gaze was directed at.

 **"Weiss..."** Ruby clung to her Patron, clearly shaken. For once, Lady Schnee did not correct her familiarity. Instead she helped Ruby to her feet.

**"Say the word, and I'll pull you from the fight."**

**"Is Blake gonna be okay?"**

Schnee glanced into the ring again. **"...however I feel about the woman personally, Lady Fall is the best physician in Vale. Miss Belladonna will have the best of care, I'm sure. But even so, you don't have to fight if you don't feel like it."**

 **"...no. No, I'll be fine."** Ruby pulled herself away from Weiss, and took up her scythe. Then she turned to Pyrrha with a serious expression, all the playfulness drained from her silver eyes. **"I'm not going to hold back. Let's make this quick."** She walked into pit.

Pyrrha took a deep breath, and started to let it out slowly--only to lose it in a startled gasp as Jaune's hand settled on her shoulder.

 **"Sorry,"** he said. **"You okay?"**

**"I'm okay."**

**"Okay."** He lifted her spear from the side of the door and offered it to her. As she took it, he reached up towards her face. She couldn't help but blush as his hands framed her cheeks, though his fingers soon settled on her golden circlet, delicately lifting it from her hair. **"Sorry, don't want that getting snagged on anything. I'll hold onto it."** He smiled at her, and she flushed all the brighter. **"Go make me proud."**

As Pyrrha and Ruby settled into their starting positions in the ring, Fall spoke again. **"And now for the main event: Miss Pyrrha Nikos versus Miss Ruby Rose."**

While the previous fight had been marked by cautious circling, probing for openings, Ruby held nothing back, as promised. She charged towards Pyrrha, swirling her massive scythe with the grace of a dancer. She swung towards the side Pyrrha hadn't guarded with a shield, but Pyrrha quickly turned on her heel to block the attack.

It was an incredibly powerful blow. While Pyrrha's fighting style tended to be precise and careful, using her opponents' momentum against them, the angular momentum of Ruby's movements, combined with the leverage afforded by the weapon's reach, made that quite unnecessary. An incredible feat, if you could pull it off, and Pyrrha could imagine Ruby cutting down Grimm like weeds. It would be a sight to behold.

And it wouldn't be enough. From the moment the scythe hit her shield, Pyrrha was sure: Ruby didn't stand a chance. And she wouldn't patronize the girl by letting her think she did.

Just as she would with a Grimm, Pyrrha let the massive impact push her rather than resisting, circling around her opponent with minimal exertion. Ruby wasn't oblivious to her exposed back, and whipped the scythe back around--an impressive display that almost hit Pyrrha with the back end. Almost, but not quite; there was a high, bell-like chime as Pyrrha's spear made solid contact with the lamé plate on Ruby's back, and the scythe was frozen mid-swing as the girl's suit locked up. Pyrrha stepped clear of its arc, then made her way back to her starting position as Ruby unfroze and did the same.

**"Point to miss Pyrrha Nikos."**

Ruby's next approach was a little more cautious. Instead of a horizontal spin, she raised her arms over her head and spun her weapon vertically. A wheel of death, or at least, of bruises and yielded points. Pyrrha guessed it was a more strenuous stance, especially since her slow advance meant Ruby had to hold it longer, but probably worth it against agile foes like herself. With a subtle shift in her grip, Ruby could change her angle of attack quickly, and there was certainly no chance of Pyrrha riding its momentum anywhere but right into the ground. And while it left her flanks a bit more exposed, she could turn to face Pyrrha more easily than Pyrrha could circle her.

A good strategy, but still not quite enough. Loosening the straps of her shield, Pyrrha hurled it at Ruby, taking perhaps too much satisfaction in the look of surprise in the younger Huntress' eyes. Ruby angled her scythe to deflect it away from her plates--the shield was just as capable of scoring points as the spear--but in so doing she committed the scythe to a particular path. Just for one rotation; at the speed she was spinning her weapon, she was only left open for half a second or so. But it was enough. Pyrrha darted in and struck. The plate clanged, Ruby froze, and Lady Fall announced the scoring.

**"Point to miss Pyrrha Nikos."**

As Pyrrha bent down to retrieve her shield, a moment of light-headedness made her wobble. The time she'd spent sitting in the changing room had given her food and drink a chance to settle, but as her heart started to race with exertion, the two glasses of wine she'd had with dinner were starting to make themselves known. And so was that damnable heat between her legs; she couldn't tell if it was because of the suit against her, or if her body had simply decided that arousal was the proper response to an elevated heart rate. Either way, if this kept up, she was going to be a mess.

But it wouldn't keep up. Ruby had wanted to settle this quickly; Pyrrha would oblige. When the next round began, Pyrrha was the one to rush in. Ruby didn't seem to react, but Pyrrha doubted she had actually caught the girl off guard. More likely Ruby was laying a trap, and wouldn't show her hand until she thought it was too late to escape.

But that awareness was just enough. Pyrrha knew what she was looking for; when she saw the tension in Ruby's arms, the subtle shifting of her wrists, she was able to read exactly what sort of attack was coming--an upward sweep towards her gut. But, with an equally subtle shift in her positioning, Pyrrha could ensure the blow struck her armor. It wouldn't be pleasant, but it should be just long enough to score her final point.

A loud, brassy clang rang through the pit, though Pyrrha barely noticed as her suit seized up. When she could move again, she fell to her knees.

**"Point to Miss Ruby Rose."**

Pyrrha was dizzy, confused, and her breathing was starting to become just a bit ragged. That... that had never happened before. _What_ had even happened? What had just happened to her?

It took her a moment to figure it out. Then it clicked, and the faint flush of tipsy arousal across her face turned to a vivid red of pure humiliation.

She had counted on her armor to protect her, somehow forgetting _she_ _wasn't wearing armor_ . She was wearing _targets_. The plates were the last place she wanted to take a strike, and she had not only left one unguarded, but intentionally angled one into the path of Ruby's scythe. She had practically _handed_ the girl the point.

Getting back to her feet and back to her starting position was... not hard, but harder than it should have been. Damn, damn, damn, _damn._ She had to finish this before her composure unraveled any further. In order to do that, she had to focus. In order to focus, she had to maintain her composure. It was circular logic; where was she supposed to start with that?

She decided to start with breathing. Planting her spear in the ground, she forced herself to take deep, slow breaths, in and out, even as Ruby was once again advancing with her wheel stance.

Breathe in. Pyrrha loosened the shield on her arm. Breathe out. She dropped the shield to the floor. Breathe in. She lowered herself into a sprinting stance.

Breathe out. She launched herself forward.

Shedding just a few pounds of protection gave her the slightest increase in acceleration. Just enough to close in faster than Ruby had anticipated. Even so, the timing had to be perfect. A fraction of a second too soon, she would have been smacked away with the haft of the weapon. A fraction of a second too late, and she would have got the padded blade. Either way, even if Ruby hadn't hit a lamé plate, the blow would have been heavy enough to throw Pyrrha off balance, create the opening she needed.

The chime rang as Pyrrha drove her spear into the plate over Ruby's chest, and the scythe froze in its path as the suit froze up. Pyrrha stepped back, picking up her shield once again before stumbling back to her starting position.

**"Point to Miss Pyrrha Nikos. Nikos is the victor, three to one. But an impressive display from both our guests, wouldn't you say?"**

Applause echoed down from above, immediately making Pyrrha's head ring. She stayed in the pit long enough to see Ruby returned to her starting position and exchange a polite bow with her; with manners satisfied, she stumbled back to the changing room. She could barely make her eyes focus, but she found the vaguely man-shaped pillar of white and gold and slumped against it. She buried her face against Jaune's shoulder with little regard for dignity. The sharp scent of his cologne seemed to help; the smell of lemongrass cut through her haze rather well.

Jaune settled the circlet back on her head. **"Welcome back, your highness. You did great."**


	11. Communication

By the time she had changed back into her dress, Pyrrha had mostly collected herself. But she struggled to maintain that composure as Jaune began to toy with her hair.

**"Your bun's a little frayed. I don't think I could redo it, even if I had the time."**

**"It's fine, isn't it?"**

**"Why don't we just let your hair down?"**

**"It's fin--nngh... ah..."**

Jaune was already carefully plucking hairpins, disassembling her bun and unraveling her braid. She didn't argue and did her best not to fidget, but she did allow herself a sleepy sigh as his fingers worked gently through her hair. Somewhere along the way, the breathy exhalation turned a little throaty, almost a moan, but Jaune didn't comment on it. Eventually, he was satisfied with her loose ponytail.  **"There we go. Ready to go back out?"**

**"Ready when you are."**

By the time they got back up to the main floor of the mansion, much of the crowd around the pit had dispersed, but there were a few people waiting around to chat about the match or congratulate her on her victory--although usually the congratulations were directed to Jaune, rather than her. Lady Fall, thankfully, was nowhere to be seen.

They hung around the arena just long enough to be polite, then headed back towards the ballroom. It was not nearly as crowded as it had been before dinner; aside from the people who were still around the arena, Pyrrha supposed some of the nobles had retired to a parlour or something. And there were bound to be a few small cliques up on the balcony, enjoying the privacy of the shadowed alcoves along the walls.

**"Why don't you relax here for a bit?"** Jaune nodded at a cluster of couches were several other Huntresses were lounging and chatting, sans Patron. It always seemed to come to that with these parties; the nobles retired to some other room to do noble things, sipping brandy maybe, without their escorts or attendants hanging on. It was a good chance to get off her feet for half an hour or so.  **"I'm going to see if I can find. Uh. Some other people."**   
  
**"Looking for Lady Schnee?"** He didn't reply, but his blush answered for him. Pyrrha gave him a fond smile.  **"I think she prefers music to conversation, so maybe look for a room where someone's playing."**

**"Yeah. Thanks."**

Jaune wandered up the stairs, and Pyrrha made her way towards the couches. She looked for a spot to sit; at the sight of her, Yang shifted from a sprawling posture that took up nearly an entire couch to something more compact, and patted the cushion beside her. Pyrrha settled in, and Yang leaned forward to take two glasses of wine off a nearby table, offering one to Pyrhra.

**Good fight,"** she said as Pyrrha took the glass.  **"You should come over, we should spar sometime."**

**"That could be interesting."** Pyrrha sipped her wine.  **"If you want to talk to your Patron about arranging a match, I can talk to mine."**

**"I mean, it doesn't have to be a** _**match** _ **match, with rules and points and an audience. I just mean. You and me, going a few rounds. Keep it fun, keep it casual."**

**"Well, that's certainly that's a lot less pressure. I would still have to talk to Lord Arc, though, if I were going to come over. I don't know what provisions you have with Lady Schnee, but it might be simpler for you to visit me."**

Yang leaned towards her, until their shoulders almost touched. Pyrrha thought she could feel the heat radiating from Yang's skin.  **"You want me to come over, just say the word."** She smirked.  **"You still got my page, right?"**

Rather than answering, Pyrrha put the glass to her lips and took a long drink. She needed to buy a moment to figure out if she was being flirted with, or if she was just horny and reading into things.  **"I don't think I've gotten rid of it."**

**"That was a very thoughtful look you just had."** Yang's tone was teasing. **"What are you thinking about?"** Her hand inched across the couch cushion, her knuckles just brushing up against Pyrrha's petticoats.

_ I'm thinking of leading you up to one of those little private alcoves upstairs to blow off some steam.  _

It wouldn't solve her purification problem, but it might take the edge off until she could get things scheduled with Jaune. Problem was, she would still need Jaune to give his blessing. She was pretty sure she needed his permission to even masturbate; getting intimate with another Huntress definitely required his approval. And at that point, she might as well drag  _ him  _ somewhere private and leave Yang out of it.

_ Jaune doesn't have to know.  _ The words echoed through her thoughts, and she immediately shoved them back into the depths of her mind. It was hard enough to maintain her self control this past week; Pyrrha was afraid that if she started breaking the rules, she would discover they were the only thing holding her together. 

Pyrrha was snapped from her reverie by a soft, scratchy voice.  **"Excuse me..."** She looked up to see Winchester's Huntress, though her Patron was nowhere in sight. She was awkwardly holding onto her own leash.  **"Can I bother you all for a moment?"**

Pyrrha glanced around at the other Huntresses gathered in this cluster, though Yang didn't bother waiting for their input.  **"It's no bother. You're... Velvet, right?"**

**"Velvet Scarlatina. Yes."**

**"Have a seat."** Yang pulled back from Pyrrha, and Pyrrha for her part shifted to the other side of the couch, making room for Scarlatina between them.

But the Huntress stayed standing, fidgeting with the leash.  **"Do you... know anyone looking to sponsor a Huntress? Maybe one of your Patrons needs a second, or...?"**

**"Is everything alright?"** Pyrrha said.

**"No. Not really. But, if you mean, did I just get cut off or something, then it's not..."** Velvet trailed off, took a deep breath, and pressed on.  **"My contract is almost up, and I'm not planning to renew it. But I live with Winchester and I don't get a stipend, so if I cut ties I'm out on the street with no savings. I just..."**

**"You need an exit strategy."**

** "He almost never lets me out of the house, and I don't even have my own teletome, so this may be my only chance to arrange anything."  ** Velvet's voice was trembling, and Pyrrha could hardly blame her. Velvet's situation was alarming--terrifying, frankly--even as an outside observer. She couldn't imagine what it was like to live it.

Yang settled her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands, looking grim. **"I can ask Lady Schnee if she's up for a third Huntress, but I think I already know the answer. And we've been in Atlas for a year, so we're pretty out of touch on that sort of thing."**

**"I can ask Lord Arc, but to be perfectly honest, I don't think the Arc Estate can afford to fund a second Huntress. But at the least, he might know someone--"**

**"You might try Adel."**

Pyrrha glanced over to the armchair where Miss Calavera was sitting. She had assumed the elderly Huntress had dozed off, though it was hard to tell behind the dark glasses. **"Adel?"** she asked. The name sounded familiar; one of the nobles who had offered her a contract last year, maybe?

**"Lady Coco Adel. No Huntress at the moment, but I think she's in the market. And she keeps a good solicitor on retainer."** Calavera leaned forward in her chair, slowly and apparently with great effort. 

**"A solicitor?"** Scarlatina seemed confused, and Pyrrha was in the same boat.  **"For what?"**

**"To get you out. You're cut off from the outside world, no home or money you can call your own... a Patron who keeps you on that tight a leash, Miss Scarlatina, might not let you go without a fight. Best be ready to take him to court."**

Looking down at the leash in her hand like she was going to throw up, Scarlatina sank onto the couch between Yang and Pyrrha.  **"...I didn't think--I mean, there's no way he could... I can't even contact her, I don't know why I thought this would work--"**

**"Steady, girl. I'll get in touch with her,"** said Miss Calavera. There was a steely edge to her voice that made Pyrrha shiver.  **"No matter what you signed, that's no way for a person to live."**

The Huntresses sat in strained silence for a while. Eventually Pyrrha's mind began to drift, in directions she didn't particularly like. She... she may not have lived at Crescent Court, cut off from all communications, but her home wasn't her own either. It was Jaune's name on the lease; he paid all the bills and bought all the furnishings, all of Pyrrha's clothes. Even the groceries and cleaning supplies went on some kind of tab or expense account, and Pyrrha didn't know the specifics because it was completely out of her hands. Pyrrha didn't have a lien to her name, or even her own bank account. What was _her_ exit strategy?

She told herself she didn't need it. That Jaune was not Cardin. She couldn't deny he was  a bit controlling , but he wasn't  _ cruel.  _ He just... liked being in charge. Liked giving orders, being asked permission for things. It wasn't much more than a game, and it didn't bother her to play along. It was kind of fun sometimes. What cause would she have to leave him?

Except... she couldn't deny that right now,  _ this wasn't working _ . He'd left her to stew in her libido for a week, it was getting harder and harder to concentrate on anything, she wasn't allowed to masturbate, and he'd kept himself so distant that she couldn't bring herself to ask him to  _ do his damned job and come over and fuck her. _

None of it was insurmountable, or unforgivable. She didn't really blame Jaune for any of it. But even so, her current situation was untenable. And while it she would rather work on communicating better, if she couldn't find a way to do that, maybe she needed to consider something else.

**"Pyrrha."** Yang's voice snapped her back to the moment.  **"You zoned out there. You okay?"**   
  
**"Yeah. I'll be fine."**

Yang cocked her head to one side.  **"Heard you just got back from an expedition. Rough time?"**

**"I... yeah."** She bit her lip.  **"First time, actually. Getting caught by the Grimm, I mean. Still getting used to it."**

**"Oh, yeah, that is rough. But, you know, we've all been there."**

**"And you seem to be handling it well."**

**"Eh, not as well as some people."** She threw a glance towards Ruby, who was busying herself with the remains of a dessert table.  **"But not as badly as some, either."** She shrugged.  **"You get used it."**

It wasn't that different from what she'd heard from Nora, and Pyrrha supposed it was true, if a little useless to her in the moment. But before she could put together a response, their conversation was interrupted by a voice that turned her stomach. **"Do you, now?"**

Most of the Huntresses jumped to their feet, a respectful response in the presence of their host (though Miss Calavera pointedly settled deeper into the cushions of her chair). **"Lady Fall,"** said Yang, her voice thick with tension.  **"How's B--nng! Nnn..."**

Fall had settled two fingers onto Yang's bare back. Just two fingertips, at the base of her spine, and instantly the Huntress' entire body went tense. Her face, already flushed with alcohol, burned bright red.

**"Now remind me, Xiao Long. You favor close combat methods, don't you?** _**Very** _ **close, in fact. I'm curious how you avoid getting ichor on you."** She began to walk her fingers up Yang's spine, and the Huntress quivered. The grinding of Yang's teeth as she fought to hold back a moan was audible.  **"Mmm... judging by your reaction, I'd say you don't. But, you say it gets easier?"** She twisted one of her fingers against Yang's skin, and Yang's mouth snapped open. 

Before she could let out more than a squeak, Yang bit down on her lip, hard enough for blood to trickle down her chin. A different liquid was trickling down her legs, staining her stockings and beginning to drip onto the tile. Pyrrha clenched her fists; she was amazed that Yang had not already punched their host. But to strike a noble was unthinkable. Even raising a fuss would cause more trouble than it solved, unless the complaint came from higher up than a mere Huntress.

** "What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?" **

The moment Lady Schnee's voice rang across the room, their host let her hand drop to the side, and Yang sank back to the couch with a gasp of relief.

Lady Fall turned to face Schnee with a smirk as the Atlas noble stormed towards her.  **"A medical examination. How do you let your Huntresses get into this condition?"**

**"My Huntresses and their condition are none of your business,"** said Schnee.  **"Although I don't know why I expected any better of you."**

**"And whatever do you mean by that?"**

Without answering, Schnee pushed past Fall, into the circle of Huntresses, and crouched down to get a better look at Yang. She reached a hand up and wiped the blood from her Huntress' lip with a thumb; Yang shivered at the touch, but did not tense or pull away. From here, Pyrrha could smell Schnee's perfume again. The scent of pine was soothing--more so, Pyrrha imagined, for Yang. The reassuring scent of her Patron, her protector in this instance.  


Weiss stood up and and offered a hand to Yang. **"We're done here."** She glanced up at the dessert table as Yang took it. **"Ruby! We're leaving!"**

**"Okay!"** Ruby called back.

**"So soon?"** Fall asked, mocking.  **"Have I offended you, Miss Schnee?"**

Pyrrha did not deign to answer, at least, not until Yang was on her feet and Ruby was at her side. Flanked by both Huntresses, she gave Lady Fall one more icy stare.  **"Is it true your new Huntress used to be a thief? I can't think of a more perfect match. Congratulations to you both, and good night."** With that, she stormed away.

Lady Fall cast her golden gaze across the other gathered Huntresses, but after a few moments of consideration she walked away without another word. Apparently she'd had her fun.

The remaining Huntresses were starting to sit back down, try to force themselves to make conversation, when Pyrrha noticed Jaune coming down the stairs, looking around the ballroom. She excused herself and went to his side.

**"Jaune. Are you looking for someone?"** She didn't want to embarrass him by mentioning who he was most certainly looking for by name.

** "I just--I was in the parlour, someone was playing piano, and. Someone asked Lady Schnee to sing, and she stormed off. Thought I would. I dunno. Check in?" **

Gods but the boy was smitten. Pyrrha gave him a gentle smile.  **"She came through here, but she just left, I'm afraid."**

**"Oh. Which way did she go?"**

**"I mean, left as in left the party."**

**"...oh."** His crestfallen expression made her wish she hadn't said anything. But he would probably feel worse to hang around looking for a woman who had already gone home.

**"Maybe you could catch her on the way to her carriage?"**

**"No. No, that would be... untoward. If she's made up her mind to leave, I can't go chasing after her."**

He was silent for a minute, and Pyrrha took his arm, taking up her position behind him once again.  **"Then did _you_ want to leave?"**

**"...do you think I came here just to see Lady Schnee?"**

That was exactly what she thought, but she couldn't say it.  **"Your intentions are your business, so I try not to give them much thought,"** she lied.  **"But things seem to be winding down, and you don't seem to be enjoying yourself, so..."**

**"Just a little longer. Don't want anyone else getting ideas about why I'm leaving."**

**"Of course, Jaune. Whatever you want."**

* * *

A quarter of an hour later, Pyrrha stepped into the carriage.  **"What time is it?"** she asked Jaune as he followed her in.

Jaune settled into the back seat of the carriage across from her and checked his watch.  **"Almost midnight."** He tucked the watch back into his pocket, then shifted over to one side of the seat and leaned against the window, looking out across the overfields as the door closed and the carriage started to move.

**"Did you have a good time tonight?"**

No answer. Jaune drummed his fingers on his knee. After a minute or two, he began to bounce his knee as well, overtaken with agitated energy. Pyrrha watched him a while longer, but when it seemed like he wasn't interested in further conversation, she lowered her head and let her eyes droop.

She was trying to rest, but the ride was not particularly restful. The paved roads of the overfields were not as bumpy as undercity streets, but she was still occasionally bounced and jostled. And with nothing to distract her from the heat between her legs, her frustration was growing. She was on the verge of soaking through her drawers; she could swear she heard herself squelch with each bump in the road. And Jaune remained oblivious.

That was until the carriage was rattled by a pothole, severe by the standards of the overfields. In that moment, she couldn't help but gasp.  **"Ah-!"**

It was a brief, sharp exhalation, not particularly loud, but no sooner had it escaped her lips than she heard Jaune's voice.  **"Pyrrha?"** He asked it as if he had just remembered she was in the carriage with him. She lifted her head, face red, resisting the urge to clap a hand over her mouth. Jaune patted the seat next to himself.  **"Come over here."**

Mouth dry, eyes wide, Pyrrha got to her feet--her unsteadiness only partly because she was in a moving carriage--and crossed the few steps to settle in next to him. Even so, she put a few inches between them. She didn't want to presume anything. She didn't want to throw herself at him.

She didn't have to. His arm looped around her shoulders; with only the barest of tugs to encourage her, she leaned into his chest, eyes fluttering closed as she relished the sharp scent of his cologne.

As she settled in against him, he let go of her shoulder, only for his hand to find their way down to her hip. Even through several layers of clothing, she shivered at the sensation of his fingers crawling up her side. As he reached the top of her corset, that separation got even thinner, and he cupped his hand over her breast.

**"Ah!"** She gasped again, reaching over to grip his thigh--overselling her reaction slightly, but not by much. She might have been embarrassed if she weren't so preoccupied with desire right now. If a little bit of encouragement would keep him touching her like this, she couldn't muster a scrap of shame for it.

And he certainly seemed encouraged, groping her roughly, squeezing and gripping her breast painfully--though not painfully enough to stop the desire from welling up inside her. Jaune seemed almost as frustrated as she was, and more than willing to take it out on her.

But that was fine. It wouldn't have been the first time, it probably wouldn't be the last. She was already an outlet for his lust, why not his stress? Besides, she _needed_ him right now. She wasn't too proud to be used.

As she arched her back, pushing her breast into his rough grip, Jaune pinched down on her nipple. She shuddered, moaning as heat radiated from that point, a tingle of pleasure that crawled through her skin and down her spine.

**"Jaune,"** she whined, her hand sliding up his leg. She cupped her palm over his groin and squeezed it, feeling the bulge growing under his pants. Now it was his turn to gasp. She stroked and teased until she could feel the well-defined shaft through the cloth, then began to reach up to the buckle of his pants.

His hand closed around her wrist, and she stopped obediently. She looked up at him, expectant. A serious expression clouded over his face, but he didn't seem to be looking at her. His eyes were fixed on some point far in the distance.

**"Pyrrha,"** he said, releasing her hand. He reached up to the curtains of the carriage, making sure they were all closed.  **"On your knees, please."**

It... wouldn't have been her first choice, not the least of which because they were in a moving carriage. But it wasn't her choice, and while she couldn't help giving a needy whine as he pulled his hand away from her breast, she obediently climbed out of her seat and started to settle in on the floor. Jaune unbuckled his belt and spread his legs, undoing the buttons of his pants. As he spread the flaps of cloth, Pyrrha reached up to his drawers underneath the trousers, and he did not object; she pulled them down enough to draw out his cock, already half-erect.

Pyrrha put her hands on his thighs and crawled closer, leaning towards his exposed groin. The smell of sweat and musk mixed with his cologne--not a pleasant smell on its own, but one that brought back its fair share of pleasant memories. She cupped her fingers around his cock, very gently, just enough to hold it steady as she buried her face in his lap and ran her tongue up the underside of his shaft. She closed her lips over his tip, sucking on it a bit, before returning to the base.

She continued to lick him gently, not wanting to take him into her mouth until she was a little more used to the jostling of the carriage. The thought of hitting a bump and accidentally biting him was mortifying. Eventually, though, Jaune reached down to curl his fingers in her hair, sending a shiver down her spine, and she knew he wasn't going to wait much longer.

She pressed her lips to the tip of his cock, an almost reverent kiss, before parting them and letting them slide down around the head. Slowly she lowered herself down he shaft, two, three inches, before backing up, and going down again, taking his cock deeper little by little. Jaune continued to work his fingers through her hair and massage her scalp; his soothing touch lulled her into a hazy trance. The smell, the  _ taste  _ of him gave her a thrill of anticipation, and for the moment she could forget that she probably wasn't going to receive what that anticipation promised. That, more than likely, this wasn't going to go beyond a blowjob in the carriage, and sending her on her way unsatisfied.

They hit another bump, and although she managed not to bite, the bouncing of the carriage drove his cock sharply and suddenly into her mouth. He slammed against the back of her throat, making her choke and gag. She pulled back, sputtering, trying to get a breath of air before continuing. But it seemed like Jaune had other ideas; his gentle fingers became a vice grip on the sides of her head and he hauled her back down, until she could feel his scrotum against her lower lip. As Jaune pumped her head against his groin, Pyrrha did her best to move with him, keeping her neck loose so as not to strain it. She looked up at him, trying to get a read on his expression. His jaw was clenched, and he was gazing out into the distance again with an intense expression. She wondered how aware he even was of what he was doing. She watched him until her eyes began to lose focus, rolling up into her head.

She couldn't say that she hated it. Not that she could call it comfortable; it hurt when his cock pounded against the back of her throat, and it was getting hard to breathe. But she could endure it. Enjoy it, even. Sometimes getting a little rough scratched an itch, for Pyrrha as much as for Jaune. As far as foreplay went, this was certainly working for her.

She wasn't sure how long he worked her head up and down on his cock, but eventually he pulled her down to the root, his entire body tense and twitching. She heard a choked, muffled whimper come from somewhere in her throat as he held here there for what seemed like days. Then he shuddered, and flooded her throat with his seed until it welled up to fill her mouth. He loosened his grip on her head, and Pyrrha pulled back slightly, another spurt coating her tongue.

His hands fell to his sides, and he panted in satisfaction. He looked down at her, for perhaps the first time since he had unbuttoned his pants.  **"Careful. Let's not stain your dress."**

She didn't think his cum would show on a white dress; if anything, it was more likely her petticoats were stained by the fluid that was beginning to seep through her drawers. But his point was taken; she gulped, gathering up his cum with her tongue as best she could before swallowing it down. She pulled his cock out of her mouth, and licked his shaft clean as he leaned back with a contented sigh.

**"That's enough."** He patted his thigh.  **"Come on up."**

Pyrrha climbed up onto him, becoming dimly aware that the carriage was no longer moving. How long had she been sucking his cock? She settled into his lap, straddling his thigh. She looped her arms around his neck, and as his fingers found her sides, beginning to trace their way up and down her ribcage, she nuzzled her face into his neck with a sigh.

**"How long do I have you for?"**

**"As long as you want,"** she breathed. She nudged the underside of his still exposed shaft with her knee, and he let out a slight, appreciative exhalation.

Even so, he was rebuilding his composure quickly.  **"Focus, Pyrrha, I'm being serious. On the schedule, when did I say I'd have you home by? Was it three thirty? Four?"**

She gave a miserable moan.  **"Four..."**

He reached into his pocket to retreive his watch, pushing Pyrrha away from his chest as he did. He stared at the numbers a while, before sighing and tucking the watch away.  **"We've got a couple hours... it's really tempting to ask you to come up."**

Pyrrha's only response was a needy whine.

**"It would be too easy to lose track of time, though. We'd better call it a night."**

Pyrrha tightened her grip, clinging to him desperately.  **"Could we change the schedule?"**

**"I mean, not at the last minute like this. Hey, Pyrrha..."** There was a note of dawning realization in his voice as he cupped a hand under her chin. As he lifted her head up to look into her eyes, Pyrrha's gaze was pleading.  **"You really need this, huh?"**

She whimpered.  **"Jaune, I--"**

_**"Lord Arc."** _

A shiver ran down her spine. It wasn't the first time he had corrected her, even if he usually let it slide. It was one of a hundred little power games he played, and Pyrrha didn't mind playing along. But for the first time, it didn't feel like a game. But the need made her vulnerable, in ways she had never been before . And he knew it. For the first time, Pyrrrha felt like she was at his mercy. That scared her, however merciful she believed him to be. It also... kind of thrilled her.

Maybe that thrill was what was really scaring her.

She swallowed, mouth quickly turning dry.  **"Lord Arc."** His approving nod encouraged her to continue.  **"I, I am requesting purification, as soon as possible. I'm sure you have been waiting for me to recover from my expedition, but my bruises are healed, my stitches are out, and, and, I don't know what more we're waiting for. Please."**

Jaune smiled warmly at her, leaning in to plant a gentle kiss on her lips.  **"Okay. Not tonight, though. I really am supposed to give like, a** _**minimum** _ **of four hours warning."**

Pyrrha hung her head with a miserable groan, but did not argue.

**"I know. It sucks. But I'll come over tomorrow, and from there we'll pick up our usual schedule. Once or twice a week?"**

**"...twice, please, when you can manage it."**

**"Sure thing."** He took her by the waist and lifted her off him; Pyrrha took that as a cue to settle into the bench on the other side of the carriage. He tucked his member back into his drawers and buttoned up his pants.  **"See you soon, and until then, take care of yourself."**

He buckled his belt and climbed out of the carriage. No sooner had he stepped onto the steps of Crescent Court than the doors shut and the carriage started making its way towards the elevator.

Pyrrha sat in a silent daze for a minute, maybe two, before suddenly tearing a cushion off the seat and hurling it across the carriage with a shriek of frustration. Dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit,  _ dammit!  _ She knew, she _knew_ he wasn't going to take her to bed, but she'd gone and gotten her hopes up. Or rather, _Jaune_ had gotten her hopes up. He could be so...  _ selfish!  _ How could he start something when he didn't mean to finish? How could he take his pleasure from her, then walk off without returning the favor?

He was going to see her again tomorrow. But what was she supposed to do until then?

_ 'Until then, take care of yourself.' _

Biting her lip, Pyrrha reached down past her knees and hitched up her petticoats. She took a glance around the curtains, making sure they were all closed an no one outside could see her, and slid her drawers down her thighs. With trembling hand and trembling breath, she reached a finger up to her soaking slit.

**"Aah..."** She shivered as she ran her finger along her pussy, bottom to top, delving into her folds and homing in on her clit.  **"Nn!"** Her entire body went rigid, almost convulsing with the pleasure from just that delicate touch. It was all she could do to keep working her fingers, teasing and toying with the sensitive nub, until she thought she was going to pass out. Before long she had to pull her hand away, giving herself a chance to breathe. She slid from her seat, sprawling across the cramped floor of the carriage, each ragged pant coming out in an undignified gasp. She licked her lips, gulping down the drool that was beginning to fill her mouth, and plunged two trembling fingers into her cunt.

**"Haaaa... ffff... fffffuck..."** She worked her thumb through the folds of her pussy, almost afraid to touch her clit again, but at the same time, desperate for it. She couldn't help but cry out as another shock of pleasure coursed through her. It wasn't long before she reached her limit, filling the carriage with a haggard, howling moan as she convulsed in her orgasm. At some point her head hit the seat behind her, but even as she saw stars she didn't stop fingering herself, dragging her climax out as long as she could.

Finally she went limp, her quivering form splayed across the carriage floor. Her mouth hung open, drool dribbling over her lips. Her chest heaved and her lungs ached with each ragged breath.

The carriage began to shake; dimly, some corner of her mind recognized that she was in the elevator out of the overfields. Mostly though, she was occupied with the new spike of sensation that spread through her body as she was bounced and jostled. With a low, almost miserable moan, she lifted her hand to her groin again.

She came, and came again; some time after the third climax, she realized the carriage was no longer moving. She was home, but she wasn't ready to stop yet. A little longer, a little more work, and she brought herself to completion a fourth time.

As she started to come down from the high, she had to resist the urge to keep going. But if she didn't stop now, she didn't know if she ever would. This... this wasn't enough. It wasn't enough, but it was enough for now. Enough to hold her over, until Jaune came for her. Maybe even enough to get to sleep without tossing and turning for an hour.

Her hands trembled as she pulled her drawers up and tried to straighten out her petticoats. She didn't know why she bothered; she was sure she looked an absolute mess. At a glance she was sure anyone would be able to tell what she had been up to.

She staggered up her steps as the carriage rolled away, and slumped against her door for support. She reached out to take the handle; after a second or two, it recognized her hand and unlocked. She stumbled in and closed the door behind her, hearing the lock click again.

**"Welcome home,"** said Miss Gerson, stifling a yawn.

**"Thanks. Sorry to keep you up so late."**

**"It's not that late. Quarter past two, or thereabouts. Shall we get you ready for bed?"**

**"Yes, thank you."**

She followed Miss Gerson to her room. Her attendant helped her undress; Pyrrha could have done it on her own, but it would have taken much longer, and she was already so tired. Too tired for conversation, and Miss Gerson was equally taciturn. She didn't even comment on the slovenly state of Pyrrha's undergarments. She simply helped Pyrrha out of her dress and corset and bade her good night.

Pyrrha didn't bother to put on a nightgown. She stripped off her soaked drawers and stockings, set her collar on her night stand, and collapsed into bed in nothing but her chemise, swaddling herself in the satin sheets. It wasn't long at all before sleep took her.


	12. Interlude: A Study In Emerald

It was nearly three in the morning when the last guest went home. But even seven hours of socializing didn't seem to have worn Cinder down much. She seemed to delight in making people uncomfortable, like she was feeding on their misery. Emerald didn't share her vigor. These people talked so much it was exhausting just to listen to them. And she wasn't even done. She knew Cinder would want to do an examination, take some notes on her little science experiment, before Emerald could get what she needed from her Patron and go to bed.

It beat prison, she supposed, but not by much.

Quietly, Emerald followed Cinder down several flights of steps, to her Patron's laboratory. Every table seemed overflowing with equipment, but she could hardly call it cluttered; Cinder's organization was meticulous, everything in its particular place.

**"Go ahead and get comfortable on the table,"** Cinder said.

Behind her veil, Emerald rolled her eyes--first because she was already aware of what was expected of her, and second because it was in no way comfortable. Still, she reached up behind her and began to unlace her dress. Just a few knots to untie, and the whole thing slid down her body. As it gathered around her ankles, she stepped out of it and her shoes, and sat on the only clear surface in the room: a broad metal operating table, its surface polished to a mirror shine.

She sat and waited as Cinder circled around her, poking and prodding at the surgery scars on her lower back. Emerald bit her lip to hold back a whimper; the scars weren't sore anymore, weren't tender the way they had been after the first few weeks. But they were more sensitive than the rest of her back, which was saying something--every part of her was getting so damned sensitive.

**"These look very good,"** Cinder purred.  **"Doesn't look like there's any sort of infection, no festering or fluids... tell me, did you feel anything during the fight? Flare ups, pain?"**

She tried to think back to the fight. There hadn't been much pain, not from her back or even from the blows she took. But the sensations had been very distracting. So distracting, she'd forgotten where she was, who she was fighting. Forgotten there were rules.  


**"No pain. Just... really feeling it, when I took a hit or anything."**

**"Is that why you lost control?"**

Emerald hung her head, gut twisting.  **"Yeah. Sorry." The panic had taken her, and she was back in the undercity, fighting for her life in the alleys.  
**

Cinder's fingers crawled up Emerald's back, and she reflexively pressed her thighs together as heat rushed to her groin. She clenched her jaw to stop from mewling.

**"Don't get me wrong,"** said Cinder.  **"I thought it was breathtaking. A marvelous introduction to high society. I am glad, though,"** she began to knead Emerald's shoulders,  **"that you didn't kill her. I put a lot of work into getting Adam Taurus where he is, and I have a lot of work for him to do before he's repaid his debt. But he might not cooperate if we break his favorite toy."**

Emerald didn't say anything; nothing intelligible was going to come out of her mouth if she opened it right now anyway. Eventually, though, Cinder pulled her hands off, giving Emerald just a few moments to compose herself before her Patron lifted her veil and reached for her flushed face. The Huntress did her best not to fidget as Cinder pulled her eyelids wide open and shone a light in each eye, examining them thoroughly.

When Cinder pulled away for a moment, Emerald said,  **"In the mirror this morning they looked pretty bloodshot. Are they sti--aghff--"** She almost choked on Cinder's fingers as her Patron pried her jaw open, shining a light into the back of her throat. 

**"That's what the veil is for,"** Cinder said, as if that answered everything. Emerald hadn't even gotten to the real point of her question--namely, that the very visible veins in her eyes were also very visibly black, and should she be concerned about that? Cinder just pushed on with her examination, grabbing Emerald's tongue firmly between three fingers and lifting it to the roof of her mouth, unmoved by Emerald's gagging.

After a minute, or probably less, Cinder seemed satisfied with her examination and pulled her hand back, leaving Emerald to cough and gasp for air. She was reeling so much she almost missed Cinder's question--but at the sound of her Patron's voice, she forced herself to come to attention. The woman did not like having to repeat herself.

**"--the matter of libido. On a scale of one to ten, how would you feel tonight?"**

**"Probably like a five."**

Cinder raised an eyebrow.  **"It's gone down?"**

Emerald hesitated. The last time Cinder had asked, she'd said seven. But some of the women she'd seen tonight...

**"I don't know. I guess I needed to re-evaluate my scale. Based on some of the other Huntresses I saw."** That "seven" had never imagined that a "ten" could look like Belladonna. Was she _even_ a ten, by the standards of Huntresses? Were there Huntresses even more broken and desperate?

**"That's no good,"** Cinder said.  **"This data needs to be internally consistent. Even if that means by the end of it you're a fifteen, or a twenty, a fourty..."**

The thought that her scale might ever go that high, that she would be at the mercy of desires she couldn't even imagine, was chilling. Was this... really better than prison?

Well, there was no point in wondering about that. There was no turning back now.  **"Then I guess an eight. A little higher than last week."**

**"Alright."** Cinder took a little note in a book, then set it aside and approached Emerald.  **"Next, sensitivity."**

Her fingertips settled gently along Emerald's ribcage, barely brushing the skin as she ran them up and down; even that touch was like fire. Burning with a feverish heat, it was all Emerald could do to hold herself upright and let Cinder continue. That composure lasted until Cinder reached her thumbs inward, running them over the gentle curve of Emerald's breasts. Emerald's nipples were already hard by the time Cinder reached them, and as her thumbs glided over the sensitive buds, Emerald felt herself begin to curl inward, as if to guard against these overwhelming sensations.

That guard was broken when Cinder gave her nipples a flick as she continued down; Emerald snapped backward, back arched, head hanging limp behind her. She slammed her hands against the table, nails scrabbling against the smooth steel as she tried desperately not to fall over.  **"Ahh... shhhhhfffssseven."**

**"I'm not done yet."** Cinder's hands continued down Emerald's hips and thighs, eliciting a slight moan. As she made her way back up, she also slid her hands inward, until she could reach between Emerald's legs with one hand, teasing her with two fingers.

**"Nnnnnngh... nnnnine..."**

**"And you're sure?"** Cinder pushed her fingers inside, twisting them, and Emerald groaned.

**"Yes! Nine. Nine. Yes. Fffffff** _**uck** _ **."**

**"Very good."** Cinder withdrew her hand back, and Emerald fell back on the table, panting and whimpering.

**"I think that's all the data I need for tonight,"** said Cinder.  **"Shall we talk about what _you_ need?"**

With a miserable groan, Emerald turned her head away and splayed her legs wide, exposing her dripping slit to her Patron. Her cheeks burned as Cinder chuckled. She thought she could hear a rustle of cloth as Cinder undressed. She sure seemed to be taking her sweet time with it, leaving Emerald to wallow in miserable heat. Then she heard the slight jangling of metal, and turned back to look at Cinder. Or more accurately, at the piece in the woman's hand. The black shaft was nearly two feet long, and as thick as Cinder's wrist. A thick metal ring was secured tightly around its length, some six inches from the base, and long leather thongs dangled from it. Emerald watched with morbid fascination as Cinder lowered the short end of the shaft between her legs, watched the whole shaft begin to _squirm_ like a living thing.

Emerald hated the way it writhed in Cinder's grasp, hated that she couldn't look away, hated the pang of need that wracked her body as she watched it  _ burrow  _ into Cinder's cunt. She gulped back the drool that was beginning to fill her mouth as Cinder let out a satisfied moan. The ring kept it from digging too deep into her, and once she had secured the leather straps around her hips, she took the shaft and stroked it until it stopped squirming, instead rising erect between her legs.

As Cinder approached, Emerald managed to tear her eyes off the piece and screw them shut. Her heart was pounding with anticipation, her chest heaving. It wasn't long before she felt the oily shaft sliding across her slit, lighting her groin aflame with fresh need. She whined as Cinder rocked her hips back and forth.

**"You know, I asked, but you didn't tell me what you need, Emerald..."**

**"Hnnnnnnnnn..."** Emerald cracked one eye open, shamefully meeting Cinder's golden gaze.  **"Are you... nn... really going to ac-ah! Aha... ah..."** She swallowed, drool beginning to spill down her chin.  **"Act like... nnn... like you don't know?"**

Cinder pulled the shaft away from Emerald's slit, eliciting a pleading whine.  **"Just documenting my work. I want to** _**hear** _ **it, Emerald."**

Emerald groaned. Scarcely a year ago, she would have said she had no pride. Couldn't afford it. If it meant living another day, then she wasn't too proud to beg, to lie, to cheat, to steal. She wasn't even too proud to sell her body--not that she got a lot of offers, scrawny little thing that she had been. And yet, Cinder had found the pride Emerald didn't know she had, only to strip it away from her bit by bit.

She told herself it was just as well. That she was better off for casting aside something so dangerous, even when it hurt.

She took a deep, shaky breath.  **"I need you to fuck me. Please,** _**please** _ **, I'm so** _**tired** _ **, I've been up all night, but I won't be able sleep until you do something about all this."** She gulped, panting.  **"Please. Fuck me. Just fuck me."**

**"Of course."** Cinder took the shaft in one hand and plunged it into Emerald.

Between the oily coating and the slick state of Emerald's needy cunt, Cinder found no resistance. The shaft held its rigid state just long enough to fill her passage, before beginning to writhe and roil inside of her. Emerald squealed; with this thing, Cinder didn't have to move a muscle to ravish her in ways no one else ever had.

Not that Cinder was content with that. She began to rock her hips, and Emerald's passage clenched around the squirming shaft, as if she could stop it from withdrawing. Cinder responded by roughly gripping her thigh, lifting her leg up to spread her slit wider. Emerald's nails screeched against the metal surface beneath her, her body quaking with every thrust. Her red eyes began to glaze over as the feverish, delirious heat consumed her mind and body.

Within a minute, her back arched, her hips quivered, and a thunderous orgasm wracked her body. But if Cinder noticed, it only spurred her on; she didn't give Emerald even a moment to catch her breath, didn't slow or soften her thrusts for an instant. It wasn't long before Emerald came again, and then again. And then she lost track of how long Cinder fucked her, how many climaxes shook her. Finally, with one last overwhelming orgasm, Emerald simply... gave out. With one last shriek of pleasure, she went limp on the table, passing out in the pool of her own sweat and desire.

Cinder's voice echoed through her dreams.  **"Welcome to the world, my Huntress."**


	13. House Call

The simulated uptown sunlight poured through Pyrrha's window, but she did not stir from her bed. She drifted in and out of consciousness for hours, until finally there was a knock at her door.  **"Miss Nikos?"**

She groaned and turned over in her bed. After a moment she called out,  **"Yes, Miss Gerson?" She was surprised at how hoarse her voice still was.**

**"Your Patron has scheduled you for an appointment. Several, actually, though most of them are still labeled tentative."**

**"Oh... yes, sorry, I should have told you last night."** She forced herself to sit up, rubbing at her bleary eyes.  **"Ja--Lord Arc said he was thinking of coming over today. Is that on the schedule?"**   
  
**"Yes, an appointment for purification at 19:00. Not a lot of details, but there may be a letter forthcoming."**

Nineteen o clock. Pyrrha looked over at her clock. Her vision was still a bit blurry, but it looked to be an hour or two before noon. That seemed... far too long to wait. But she was feeling more put together than she had in days. She could live with it.

**"Thank you for letting me know. If you're ready, we can start getting ready. I really ought to clean up..."**

**"Of course, Miss Nikos. I'll draw up your bath."**

Pyrrha started to disentangle herself from her sheets. When she heard Miss Gerson's footsteps, turning to leave, something else clicked in her mind and she called out,  **"Wait!"**

**"Yes Miss Nikos?"**

**"You mentioned several appointments?"**

**"Yes. Still all marked tentative, but over the next month you have sessions with your combat, ettiquette, and survival tutors, a medical checkup, and, ah, eight purification appointments, it would seem."**

Pyrrha fell back to the bed. Whatever embarrassment she might have felt at her growing needs being on display for Miss Gerson was washed away by sheer  _ relief _ . It wasn't that different from her schedule over the past year as Jaune's Huntress, but she found it reassuring to have it in writing.

**"Thank you, Miss Gerson."**   
  
**"Of course. I'll go get your bath started; come along when you're ready."**

Pyrrha dragged herself out of bed, putting on a robe and composing herself as best she could before taking her bath. By the time she got out--smooth and clean, her body hair carefully shaven--she was ravenous. She had slept through breakfast, but Miss'ess Eudora had saved enough to heat her up a plate. She was almost finished eating when the door rang; unsurprisingly, a letter and a package had arrived.

It was a bit surprising, though, that the package was little more than a padded envelope, not large enough to contain much in the way of new clothing. That piqued Pyrrha's curiosity enough to open it before the letter, and she found no clothing and very little new. Just a few familiar trinkets that Jaune usually kept at Crescent Court, along with a small glass bottle full of viscous liquid. Pyrrha held it up to the light, swirling it around and examining its oily, iridescent sheen. Curious, she pried open the bottle and sniffed at the substance--then closed it immediately, face beginning to flush red from the smell. It was the same sweet, overpowering scent as the vapor from her last purification. She couldn't tell if the sudden rush of dizzy heat was from the fumes, or just from the memory.

Setting the bottle back on the table, Pyrrha broke the seal on Jaune's letter and read it. Then she read it two more times, to make sure she had gotten everything clear. It didn't seem like this was much less elaborate than her previous purification--Jaune had just shifted the burden of preparation on to her. And given that she had asked for this, practically  _ begged  _ for it, she didn't mind too much shouldering the burden. Even so, making a spectacle of herself in her own home like this seemed... degrading.

But degrading or not, this was well within the boundaries of her contract. She didn't have any right to refuse him. And she didn't have the will.

She passed the letter to Miss Gerson and went into the back rooms to speak to Miss'ess Eudora. She found her housekeeper in the laundry room, tending to the red satin sheets from her bed.

**"Do you think you'd be able to schedule dinner a bit early? Lord Arc is visiting this evening, and I have a lot of preparation I need to do before hand. Plus I want time for the food to settle."**

**"Suppose his lordship's not joining us for dinner?"**

Pyrrha shook her head.  **"No, I think he intends to get straight to the point. To the extent that... well, he wants me to meet him in the foyer, and I don't anticipate we'll be going upstairs afterward."**

**"And you'd like your privacy, I imagine."**

**"I mean, that would be terribly inconvenient wouldn't it? Being cooped up in the back rooms for gods know how many hours..."**

**"Well. Supposing I went to visit my eldest."**

**"If that's not imposing too much."** As inconvenient as this must have been for Miss'ess Eudora and her daughter, Pyrrha couldn't help envying her ability to pop out and visit her family without anyone's permission.

**"She'll be glad to see me if I can keep the little ones out of her hair for a few hours. Speaking of, how many hours do you expect the young man to...?"**

**"I don't think he's planning to spend the night, but he did schedule me through noon tomorrow."**

**"Gracious."**

**"I'm sure it's just--just in case. Leaving enough time in case plans change, if perhaps he's too tired to go home and would rather sleep over, that sort of thing."**

**"Will you need me for breakfast?"**   
  
**"No, I can cook for myself. And Lord Arc, if it comes to that. I promise not to burn down your kitchen."**

**"Better not."**

* * *

The flat was quiet. Miss'ess Eudora had left after dinner; Miss Gerson had insisted on sticking around for a few more minutes to help Pyrrha prepare, but finally had left for her sister's. Pyrrha had the place to herself.

She wasn't sure how long she was alone, waiting for Jaune. Making her wait was the point, she assumed; she couldn't think of any other reason he would insist that she be ready for him an hour before he actually arrived. But was it just an hour? She sat kneeling in her foyer, growing more light-headed by the minute, until "minutes" started to lose all meaning. The drugged oil Jaune had sent was definitely making itself felt. At some point she heard the clock strike, but by that point she couldn't count the chimes, or even remember how many chimes she was waiting for.

Sometime after that, she heard the sound she was really waiting for--footfalls at her doorstep. Her heart raced and she straightened her spine, standing at attention in anticipation. Well, kneeling at attention. Her wide eyes, which had been hazy and unfocused a moment before, were locked on the doorknob. She whimpered to hear it rattle slightly, and it seemed an agonizing delay before the lock clicked, recognizing Jaune's hand and letting him in. He opened the door just a crack, just wide enough to squeeze through, and shut it behind him the moment he was clear of the frame. He leaned against the doorframe and simply gazed at Pyrrha with a grin.

She was intensely aware of the spectacle she made. Her soft red bedsheets had been spread across the foyer floor, and she knelt in the center of them, on display and stewing in the scent of sweat and lilies. Her heavy metal collar clashed somewhat with the thin, almost gossamer cloth that clung to the rest of her body. Matching stockings and gloves of translucent black silk sheathed her limbs, contrasting her white chemise. The sheer cloth had already been transparent when she put it on; now, after an hour of waiting for Jaune, she could feel it clinging to her skin, soaked with sweat. Even without looking down at the garment--that would have meant taking her eyes off her Patron--she knew it left nothing to the imagination.

Sweat wasn't the only liquid glistening on her skin. She'd done her best not to drool, gulping down her saliva as fast as it welled up, if only for something to do. But she was sure her lips were shining with it, and at least one trail had dribbled down her chin. And then there were her thighs--completely drenched, with a wet stain forming on the sheet where the liquid from her pussy dripped down between her knees.

As embarrassing as this show she was putting on for him was, it wasn't half as humiliating as the pleading look she had fixed on him from the moment he walked through the door, or the needy whine that emerged from his throat as he took his sweet time drinking in the sight of her.

**"Forgetting something?"**   
  
His tone, while amused, was still chiding, and Pyrrha couldn't help but flinch. What? What was he talking about? She followed his gaze down to her left hand, to the assemblage of leather and metal she was holding. She  _ had  _ forgotten; she was supposed to put this on when she heard him at the door. Just another game--Jaune would never leave her gagged and unattended, certainly not for an hour. But she supposed it completed the image he wanted to craft, of her all dressed up and waiting,  _ yearning _ , for his arrival. A present to be unwrapped when he got home.

Her hands trembled as she fumbled with the gag, hastily lifting it to her mouth, before Jaune said,  **"Don't. I'll take care of it."**

She hung her head and lowered her hands as Jaune slipped off his shoes and walked slowly towards her. As he knelt down in front of her, she held the gag up, offering it to him, but he didn't take it. She inhaled sharply as he put his hands at her sides, one at her ribcage and one at her hip, settling his fingertips on her with just enough pressure to be felt through her chemise. As he brought one hand lazily down towards her waist, the fingers of his other hand crawled up her stomach and sternum, elliciting a shuddering gasp. Pyrrha quivered, struggling to remain upright, though she was steadied slightly by Jaune's hand on her chin. He swept a thumb across her lower lip, plucking away a strand of crimson hair that had come loose from her bun and gotten stuck to the sticky sheen of drool. Then he pushed that thumb against her mouth, and obediently she opened it to let the digit in. The saliva that she'd been struggling to hold back poured out, running down her chin and slathering his hand, dribbling down the front of her chemise and staining the cuff of his sleeve.

He teased her mouth for a bit, working his finger along her tongue, stretching the inside of her cheek; Pyrrha dizzily bobbed her head with the movements of his hand. Soon Jaune withdrew his finger and settled it under her chin again, but Pyrrha's mouth still hung open, panting with ragged breaths even as he tilted her head back to meet his eyes. Despite his earlier scolding, Jaune's lips were curved into a gentle smile. His eyes, though, told a different story. Self-satisfied, almost smug. He was certainly enjoying this.

He leaned forward to kiss her, the scent of his lemongrass cologne cutting through the aromas of sweat and perfume that mingled around her. In her heady, almost delirious state, his scent alone threatened to overwhelm her. No sooner had Jaune touched his lips to hers than her eyes began to glaze over, her lids drooping. Her breathing quickened, her chest heaving with each breath, even as he looped a hand around her waist and pulled her thinly clad body to his chest. She wondered if he could feel her nipples digging into his chest even through his shirt and waistcoat. She was absolutely sure she could feel the heat from her cunt as she soaked through his trousers.

Jaune's hand slipped down from her waist and his fingers curled around her buttock. He gave her ass a squeeze, and her back arched, pressing her all the more firmly against him. Her eyes began to roll up, and her head fell back, breaking the kiss as her neck went limp. She barely registered Jaune's laughter at that, couldn't tell if it was jovial or mocking. It didn't matter, she supposed. Not right now, not when she felt like this. He could mock her, belittle and degrade her, as long as he kept  _ touching  _ her.

Pyrrha didn't notice the gag being pulled from her unresisting hand; she had completely forgotten about it until she felt it pressed to her lips.  **"Open,"** Jaune said, and she obediently spread her lips as wide as she could, letting him settle the metal ring between her teeth. The leather ball pressed against her tongue.  **"Bite down,"** he said, and she once again obeyed. Once the pressure of her jaw held the gag in place, he set to work fastening the straps behind her head, carefully working his fingers through her hair so as not to tangle or snag the straps or clasps in her locks. She let out a muffled moan at his gentle touch.

When the gag was secure, he cupped his hands around the sides of her face and leaned his forehead to hers.  **"Forget anything else?"**

As best as she could with him holding her face, Pyrrha shook her head, brow rubbing back and forth against his skin.

**"Bend over and show me,"** he said, before letting go of her and pulling away.

As Jaune stood up and stepped back, Pyrrha lowered herself to her hands and knees. She leaned her head down to the ground, all but prostrating herself at Jaune's feet, while keeping her rear as high in the air as she could. Her chemise was barely long enough to cover her rear when she stood upright; bent over like this, her ass was entirely exposed to him. Hopefully Jaune would be able to see the wide brass ring hanging against her buttocks, dangling from the beads that were lodged inside her. Still, he circled around behind her, presumably for a better look; Pyrrha could only wait, trembling with anticipation.

**"And of course,"** he said,  **"you used the oil as instructed?"** She felt something between her legs, pressing up on her pussy--hard and bony, covered in smooth cloth. The force Jaune applied was similarly firm, but gentle. And it was enough to send shockwaves rolling through her body. Her gag barely stifled a squeal as liquid gushed from between her legs, soaking what she dimly recognized to be Jaune's stockinged foot. He withdrew it, chuckling, as Pyrrha knelt quaking before him.

Each breath came as a muffled whimper as she tried to pull herself together. Dimly, she was aware of cloth rustling. She had no idea how long it took Jaune to get undressed, but it was far, far too long. Finally, when she didn't think she could take it anymore, the sheets beneath her knees shifted as he settled in behind her. Jaune laid his hands on her hips; her skin was on fire where he touched her, and she couldn't help squirming eagerly in his grasp.

**"Hold** _**still** _ **,"** he said, lifting a hand from her hip and smacking it down on her rear. She let out a stifled squeak, but once the shudder that ran through her body had passed, she managed to settle herself.

**"Good girl,"** he said, and it was all Pyrrha could do not to shudder again.  _ Yes... more... _

Jaune stroked her rear gently, soothing the stinging sensation he had left with his blow, then slid his hand between her legs. Pyrrha trembled as he ran his fingers up her slit, digging them into her folds. She went rigid when one of those fingers found her clit, pressing down on the little nub and sending waves of pleasure radiating through her body as he teased it. Bit by bit she was unmoored from all other thoughts, left to drift in a haze of mind-numbing pleasure. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and saliva began to pour down her chin and across her cheek, a stain of drool spreading across the sheet beneath her.

Jaune began to work two fingers in and out of her, while another relentlessly teased her clit. Even without the gag, the gurgling sounds that issued from Pyrrha's mouth would have been unintelligible. Beyond thought, acting purely on instinct and desire, Pyrrha began to fidget and squirm, working her hips against his hand--forgetting Jaune's earlier reprimand, until the hand not occupied inside of her lifted up from her hip.

**"I said** _**still** _ **,"** he said, spanking her again. The sharp accent of stinging pain seemed to push her mounting pleasure over the peak, and Pyrrha's body tensed, bucking and convulsing as she came with a long, low moan. When her climax passed, Pyrrha went limp; only Jaune's hasty grasp on her hips stopped her from slumping into a heap on the ground.

Pyrrha half anticipated another smack, but before she could figure out if she was dreading it or yearning for it, Jaune let out a satisfied sigh.

**"Good girl,"** he breathed, and Pyrrha all but melted from the words.

He took a hand off her to maneuver his shaft between her legs. He ran it back and forth along her slit, and Pyrrha moaned as she coated it with her juices. She whimpered as he angled the head against her pussy and began to slowly push into her. She whimpered again as he stopped. It was just the tip. He had gone just deep enough to take his hand off his cock, instead looping a finger into the brass ring between her butt cheeks.

As Jaune thrust his hips forward, he pulled back, both on her hip and the ring. And as his cock slid into her cunt, the beads slid out of her ass. Two, three of them, her hole opening and closing with each sphere that slid out, as the rest of them ground against her insides. Pyrrha squealed once more, gripping the sheets beneath her and pressing her chest into them as her back arched. She bucked and convulsed, the overwhelming stimulation dragging her down from her dazed high into a maelstrom of white-hot pleasure.

As Jaune drew his hips back, he pushed the beads back in, provoking a shudder and a wince. It felt good, but  _ gods  _ it would never stop feeling strange. Jaune continued to work the beads in and out of her in rhythm with his thrusts, pulling them out as his shaft went in and vice versa. And as he drove his cock deeper and deeper, he pulled the beads farther and farther out. With each thrust, her ankles flexed and her toes curled.

**"Hmmph... mmph... mmm... hnnn... nnHN... NN!"**

Her muffled moans began to rise in pitch and urgency as Jaune pumped faster and faster. Finally, with a shuddering groan, he slammed his hips into her so hard he nearly bowled her over. It was all Pyrrha could do to hold her ground as he came inside her; as the hot, viscous liquid flooded her cunt, she fell tumbling over the edge into her own orgasm. Her entire body went taut as a bowstring, quivering with tension, her back arching until she thought it would break, until with a moan and a shudder she went limp again.

She lay there breathing heavily, eyes glazing over, as Jaune slowly, lazily, bent over her, resting his chest against her back and nuzzling his face into her hair. Though his cock was still buried deep inside of her, it wasn't quite thick enough to plug up her hole, and she could feel his cum beginning to run down her thighs. Jaune sighed and cooed contentedly into Pyrrha's ear; Pyrrha could only gurgle in response. He enveloped her, his skin and scent seeming to swallow her up. It was... strangely comforting. It felt as though there was no world beyond Jaune, no moment beyond this one.

His hands began to make their way up her sides, and immediately Pyrrha found herself shifting from contentment to excitement. One hand worked its way under her, knuckles to the ground as he gripped her breast. She could feel his metal bracelet, the counterpart to her collar, pressing into the underside of the soft mound. It was warm from his body heat. Jaune caught her hard nipple between the cleft of his fingers, squeezing it gently as he kneaded her soft flesh and sending tingles of pleasure through her once more. 

His other hand made its way up to her face, his palm stroking gently along her throat before finding the gag. He worked the leather ball out of the metal hoop, freeing her airway without letting her close her mouth. Pyrrha inhaled sharply, only to choke and sputter as she accidentally swallowed a mouthful of drool. She coughed loudly, spattering so much saliva across the sheets that for a moment she thought she might have retched. She gasped and gulped for air for a few moments, before managing to quiet her breathing.

**"You okay?"** Jaune asked. Pyrrha took a moment to take stock of herself, before wearily nodding her head.

**"You can breathe okay?"** Again, she nodded.  **"Do you need this out?"** She paused, then shook her head in something of a daze.

**"...had enough?"**

She didn't respond right away. Not until he pinched her nipple a little more tightly between the knuckles of two fingers; she screwed her eyes shut, clenching her jaw on the ring until she thought her teeth would break. When he loosened his fingers enough that she could breathe again, Pyrrha shook her head. Not sure it could be distinguished from her trembling in the wake of that pinch (though really, the shudder of pleasure was probably answer enough), she managed to articulate,  **"Nn-nn..."**

**"That's what I thought. GIve me just a few minutes."**

**"Mmhm..."**

He reached up and began to stroke her hair.  **"Good girl."**

**"Nnnn..."** Her eyes fluttered closed. What was it about that simple reassurance that made her want to  _ bask  _ in it? Was it just his voice, the gentle, breathy way Jaune said it, that soothed her? That washed away all her worries, all her shame and reservations? Gods, she wanted to stay like this forever...

That is, until Jaune began to move again, and she grew eager for what would come next. He wiped the drool away from her chin with one thumb, then pushed the ball back into the ring of her gag. His hands made their way back down her body, his shaft grinding inside her slightly as he pulled himself upright. He took a firm hold of her hips, and Pyrrha whined as he pulled his cock free of her.

Jaune spread his hands across her rear, digging his fingers into the soft mounds of her buttocks. It wasn't until he began to part her cheeks with his thumbs that Pyrrha realized the beads had come out and some point. Now Jaune pressed the tip of his cock against her spreading hole. Pyrrha braced herself as he began to work the head in.

**"NnNNGnnn..."**

She screwed her eyes shut and clenched her jaw as he slowly, meticulously filled her with his shaft. Waves of pleasure washed over her even as she squirmed with discomfort. It didn't hurt, exactly; the beads had stretched her out enough, and a cocktail of sweat, oil, and other fluids served to lubricate her and ease his entrance, but it was still  _ intense.  _ Pyrrha gripped at the bedsheet, feeling her fingernails scraping against the tiled floor even through her gloves and sheets. Finally, she could feel his pelvis pressing against her rear; he was all the way in.

She barely had time to acclimate to that before he began to pull out again, withdrawing his shaft until only his head remained inside her, and plunging back in. Pyrrha's eyes snapped open and she gave a strangled, muffled cry.  _ That  _ had hurt. But a little pain couldn't drag her down from the high of pleasure. Her body rocked as he began to pump his hips; after just three or four thrusts, her knees gave out and she slumped forward, belly and thighs falling to the sheets. She nearly dislodged him, but Jaune followed her down, straddling her with his knees on either side of her hips. He leaned forward and clasped his hands over Pyrrha's, intertwining his fingers with hers as he pounded down into her ass. He leaned more and more of his weight on her back, until her breasts flattened beneath her and her cunt ground against the floor with every thrust.

**"Fff... ffnnn... ffmmnn... nn..."**

Pyrrha squirmed, overwhelmed by the sensations, kicking and flexing her legs--the only part of her not pinned under Jaune's weight. Slowly, though, their thrashing steadied and she began to curl in on herself, settling her thighs on the ground and lifting her lower legs up and forward. Her feet continued to squirm, ankles flexing, toes curling, uncurling, splaying wildly apart. Her eyes were beginning to roll back in her head again.

Her muffled moans began to rise into wails of delirious pleasure. Finally, with a scream that even the gag could barely quiet, she came again, every muscle straining with tension. Her asshole clenched tightly around Jaune, but he didn't slow his movements. Two, three, four more agonizing thrusts pounded into her before, with a convulsive shudder and a throaty moan, Jaune came as well.

She couldn't say how long she lay tense and twitching beneath him; only when Jaune, with a slightly pained groan, began to pull his cock out of her did time regain any meaning. When at last his head came free, Pyrrha went limp. Her face fell to the sheets, and her feet dropped with dull thuds against the floor. Jaune still lay on top of her, his tender shaft still slightly firm against her backside; she felt his hand sliding under her stomach, his arm looping around her as he rolled her onto her side with him. As he lifted his leg and draped it over her hip, he reached his other hand up to pull the ball out of her gag once more.

After a moment, he said,  **"Pyrrha?"**

**"Nn?"** she murmured weakly.

**"Are you breathing right now?"**

...was she? It took a moment for her hazy mind to fully process the question, but once she did she realized, no. She wasn't.

Immediately Pyrrha took an enormous, gulping breath of air, straining her chest and throat, before letting it out with a miserable moan.

**"There you go,"** Jaune cooed in her ear. Pyrrha could only groan back. Jaune began to stroke her jawline with his thumb.  **"You holding up okay? Jaw getting sore?"**

**"Nn nn."**

**"Need the gag out?"**

**"Nn nn."**

**"Okay. Want to keep going? I mean, quick break, but then..."**

Pyrrha paused. She couldn't say she was sated, but she had almost hoped  _ he  _ was. At the least, she hoped he'd had enough anal play to satisfy him for the night. Not that she  _ hated  _ it, it was just... a lot. But what was she going to do if he wanted more? Say no? She couldn't. She was entirely at his mercy.

Not that she had any way to articulate that; even if she'd asked for the gag off, she doubted she could string together a coherent sentence right now. Before she could pull her hazy thoughts together, Jaune's fingers strayed down her belly and towards her groin. One finger ran down along her slit, and instantly Pyrrha arched her back with a whimpering moan.  **"Nnnnnnn..."**

**"Is that a yes?"**   
  
Pyrrha nodded dizzily.  **"Mm hm..."** She may have been at his mercy, but Lord Arc was a benevolent master. As the clock struck the hour, Huntress and Patron resumed their work.  



	14. A Routine Proposal

**"...Pyrrha?"**

**"Hnn?"**

**"Do you want to keep going?"**

Pyrrha pondered the question. She had no idea how many times Jaune had asked her tonight. But this was the first time she had shaken her head.  **"Nn nn."** After what must have been hours, she was well and truly satisfied. She was also  _ exhausted _ , and on the verge of passing out right here on the floor of her foyer.

Jaune began to unclasp the gag. Pyrrha breathed a sigh of relief as he finally dislodged the ring from her mouth; she began to work her strained jaw, as Jaune massaged her cheeks with his fingers.

**"Feeling okay?"**

**"I'm okay."** She sighed sleepily.  **"I'll be fine."** She rolled over towards Jaune, burying her face in his chest with a contented hum. Her eyes drifted shut as he wrapped his arms around her. He was just as sticky with sweat as she was, and hours of exertion had almost washed away the scent of his cologne. Almost, but not quite, and right now his natural musk, tinged with the faintest whiff of lemongrass, was as intoxicating to Pyrrha as any drug he could have given her.

She began to speak, her lips parting with a soft, moist noise, but before she could utter Jaune's name, before the first sound of it could escape her lips, she closed her mouth. She swallowed, struggling to compose herself, before carefully, timidly saying,  **"Lord Arc?"**

Using his title brought almost instant gratification as he began to stroke her hair.  **"Yes?"** She shivered, responding as much to the encouraging tone of his voice as the gentle touch of his fingers.

**"How long are you staying?"**

**"How long do you want me to?"**

_ Forever.  _ **"Would you... spend the night?"**

**"If you like. You sure you want me sleeping in your room though?"**

She hesitated. It... wasn't as though he'd never been in her room before. They'd never been intimate there, but the bed Jaune had selected for her was certainly big enough for two. In fact it was the exact same model he'd put in her quarters at Crescent Court. But that was the  _ only  _ thing in her room that Jaune had selected. Everything else Pyrrha had chosen herself. It was the only corner of her world that was just for her.

Even in her blissful haze, she wasn't ready to give that up.  **"No,"** she sighed.

**"Do you want me to help you upstairs?"**   
  
**"...yes."** He began to pull away, and Pyrrha threw her arms around his neck, clinging to him.  **"Not yet? Please?"**

He chuckled.  **"Say that again?"**   
  
**"** _**Please** _ **, Lord Arc."**

**"Of course."** He pulled her more tightly into his embrace.  **"Good girl,"** he murmured, and Pyrrha shuddered with delight.

She lay in his arms, on the verge of dozing off as he stroked her hair, until finally the clock struck midnight.

**"Pyrrha?"**   
  
She was too tired for words, and responded only with a sleepy,  **"Mm?"**

**"You still awake?"**   
  
**"Nn."**

**"Time for bed, okay?"**

She whined as he disentangled himself from her arms, but did not resist. He rolled her onto her back and swaddled her in the drenched bedsheets. Once he had her wrapped up like a parcel, he said,  **"Grab on to me."**

She reached up for his shoulder, expecting to lean on him as they walked up the stairs together. She had not been expecting him to scoop her up in his arms, lifting her off the ground. With a startled squeal, she threw her arms around his neck, and he chuckled.

**"It's okay. I've got you."** Pyrrha flushed with embarrassment as he started up the stairs. Eventually he got her to her door, and lowered her to her feet.  **"Can you walk okay?"**   
  
Tentatively, she shifted her weight, trying to support herself.  **"I can stand."** Barely. It boggled her mind that after all that, after probably exerting himself more than she had for the past four or five hours, Jaune not only had the strength to walk, but to carry her up a flight of stairs. How much stamina did the man  _ have?  _ Not that she wasn't grateful for it, but she was envious at the same time.

**"Okay."** Jaune planted a gentle kiss against her temple as she disentangled herself from his arms. He stepped back as she opened her door.  **"See you Tuesday. Until then, good night."**   
  
**"Good night, Lord Arc."**

* * *

Tuesday came, and Pyrrha was relieved to find Jaune's plans far more subdued than the last two. No grand spectacle, no drugs, just a pleasant night in her quarters at Crescent Court. Her visit on Friday was much the same, as was the Tuesday after. Her time with Jaune was by no means monotonous; even without making such a fuss, he had no shortage of tricks and toys to keep things from getting stale. But it was a return to normalcy. Pyrrha was finally starting to feel like she was  _ home  _ again.

Over the next few weeks, she eased into a comfortable routine. Lessons with tutors, tea or brunch with fellow Huntresses. An uneventful checkup from Doctor Argent, attending Jaune at a dull garden party.

The only real stress came from her meeting with her combat instructor. His visits up to this point had been mostly perfunctory, running her through the same drills and exercises she did on her own time. He'd told her time and again she had nothing to learn from him. But this month, he seemed determined to teach her  _ something _ , though even he didn't seem to know what. He ran her through drill after drill, starting from the very basics--stances, breathing, meditation--and eyeing her like a hawk the whole time. She was sure he was looking for a slip up, somewhere she would make a mistake, some area where she'd gotten rusty or sloppy.

He was looking for where he had failed her. Pyrrha didn't know how to convince him that she was the one had failed him.

* * *

As Pyrrha was finishing her breakfast, Miss Gerson opened her tome.  **"Your Patron has entered some new appointments on your schedule for the next few weeks. Still marked tentative, except for the Tuesdays."**

Pyrrha leaned back in her chair. She was reaching the end of the four weeks he had planned out after Lady Fall's dinner party.  **"Same as we've been doing?"**

**"More or less. Tutors, purification, another checkup. He has also entered a concert you'll be attending with him, but that's about six weeks out."**

Pyrrha drummed her fingers on the table. After some consideration, she said,  **"Miss Gerson, please ask Lord Arc to send me the records of scheduled Huntress expeditions. Proposed, pending, and in progress."** Pyrrha could look up resource manifests and geological surveys herself, but only Jaune had the access to see what other Huntresses were planning. And while it wasn't the worst thing, for two Huntresses to go after the same quarry, it wasn't the best use of her time.

**"You're planning another expedition?"** asked Miss Gerson.  **"Already?"**

Her attendant's concern stung Pyrrha's pride a bit. Given the months it took to arrange an expedition, this was a perfectly normal timetable to start planning the next one. Did Miss Gerson really think she was in such bad shape?

But Pyrrha forced herself to make a reassuring smile.  **"I think it's time. I'll hope to have a proposal for Lord Arc by week's end."**

* * *

**"Selenium?"**

Pyrrha nodded.  **"I know it doesn't carry the prestige of gold, or iron, or lost works of art, but it is very necessary. We use it in fertilizers in the hydroponics plants, nutritional supplements--"**

**"My father's shampoo."** Jaune leaned back in his chair, eyes on the maps Pyrrha had laid across his desk.  **"Are we running low?"**

**"They estimate our current seed will last Vale another six months. Which, is not the most urgent, I understand, but no one else has filed plans to retrieve any."**

**"Because it's not very prestigious?"**   
  
**"Ah..."** Pyrrha's gaze fell to her feet, and she felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment. She had been a lot more confident about her proposal this morning.

**"No, it's good. I like it."** A brief pause, then,  **"Hey. Pyrrha. Pyrrha, look at me."**

She lifted her eyes to meet his gaze.

**"I know it can't all be operas and gold dust. Sometimes what Vale needs isn't pretty or glamorous. And you and me, we're not above the grunt work, right?"**

She nodded with relief, even as part of her wanted to roll her eyes.  _ You and me, doing the lowly grunt work. Me, going down to Remnant to risk my life and sanity. You, sitting in your study signing checks. _

That wasn't fair, of course. Apart from paying for everything, Jaune had a lot to do in the planning phases. A lot of the logistics that had to be sorted out, the arrangements that had to be made, were in his hands.

So rather than giving in to the impulse to snap at him, she said,  **"Right. The hydroponics plants need all the help they can get."**

**"No argument here. I like eating as much as the next guy. So it looks like you found three deposits?"** He nodded at the maps on the table.

**"Yes."** Pyrrha reached across the table and pushed one towards Jaune.  **"I'd prefer this one, if you can arrange it. I would need cold weather gear and mountain climbing gear for that, though. Probably a sleeping blind."** ****

**"Sounds... really rough."**

The hesitation in his voice made Pyrrha nervous about her proposition again.  **"If it's too expensive, then --"**

**"It's not that--"**   
  
**"I mean, I know I lost my armor last time, that's got to be hard on your budget--"**

**"PYRRHA."**

Pyrrha stopped rambling, her mouth snapping shut as she hung her head.  **"...I'll shut up now."**

After a moment, Jaune reached across the table to take her hand, and she shivered at his gentle touch.  **"I would buy solid gold plate mail if it meant getting you back."**

Despite his soothing tone, a pit began to form in her stomach. She tried to push it aside.  **"Expensive** _**and** _ **impractical. I wouldn't last a day."** It would have been a bad joke at the best of times, and it was especially tone deaf right now. Jaune just squeezed her hand.

**"I know my education on this doesn't match yours, but I** _**do** _ **study Remnant and the Grimm. Enough to know that icy mountains are more dangerous than even the jungle."**

He was worried about her. A whole month, and he was still treating her as...  _ fragile.  _ Was it guilt? Because he'd proposed with the last expedition? It really hadn't been his fault, though, even if sometimes she still felt like blaming him. She'd let him down, and he'd lost confidence in her.

If she were being honest, that was part of the reason she preferred the mountains. It was also the most promising deposit, according to the geological surveys; it wasn't like she was seeking out danger for danger's sake. But Vale needed resources, and Pyrrha needed a challenge. She needed to prove herself again.

**"It is the most dangerous of the three locations. I'm not going to pretend its not. But it's also the best place on Remnant to find selenium."** Looking up towards the desk, she pulled her hand from his, and pushed a different map towards him.  **"If you can't arrange that destination, the savanna would be a close second. It's probably the safest, but with the survey's margin of error, there's something like a ten or twelve percent chance there's nothing to find, and we'd be wasting our time."** She pulled the third map back towards her.  **"And the swamp is a last resort. If, for whatever reason, the other two options are entirely off the table, this is still worth a shot."**

**"Okay."** He pulled the map of the swamp from her, gathering them all up in a neat stack.  **"I'll get started on the paperwork and petitions tomorrow, and we'll see which of these can be arranged."**   
  
Pyrrha looked up to meet his eyes.  **"Jaune,"** she said, as sternly as she could muster.  **"Promise me that you're not going to prioritize the savanna expedition. If you really, truly can't arrange that mountain, if you can't get clearance or can't afford it, I understand. I** _**do** _ **. Just promise me you won't go behind my back because you think you're protecting me."**

He looked slightly taken aback, and Pyrrha was certain he had been at least  _ considering  _ doing exactly that. Still, he composed himself quickly, and returned her gaze with matching resolve.  **"I promise,"** he said. She believed him.

Relieved, she smiled.  **"Then I believe that's everything."** She stood up.  **"By your leave..."** After a moment of hesitation, Pyrrha gave an awkward curtsy, then headed to the door out of his study.

**"Not everything,"** Jaune said, and Pyrrha halted in her tracks. He had dropped his voice to the lower register he usually reserved for the bedroom, and her knees quaked at the sound of it. He stood up and approached her slowly, his voice drawing a little closer with each word.  **"You don't have my leave; I still have you scheduled for three more hours. And you seem... on edge, Pyrrha** ." He settled his hands on her shoulders, massaging them gently through her blouse, and her breath hitched in her throat.  **"You're visiting your mother tomorrow, correct?"**   
  
Her lips parted, but she couldn't bring herself to make a sound. Instead she nodded.

**"Then I assume you'll want to be in your best shape for her... you don't want her to worry about you..."**

Pyrrha couldn't say he was wrong about any of it. But she didn't think for a second it had  _ anything  _ to do with what he was doing. She had pushed back against him, put her foot down and demanded a promise from him--and he'd conceded to her. It was hardly a surprise that he felt the need to re-assert himself. And she would much rather he take her from behind than go behind her back.

Besides, what was she going to do? Argue with him? When he left her breathless with a husky voice and a shoulder massage?

She found her voice, though it was meek and shaky.  **"Of course, Lord Arc."** She licked her lips.  **"** _**Thank you** _ **, Lord Arc."**

Jaune leaned against her back as he reached over her shoulder to close the door. She couldn't help shuddering as he locked it.

Well. He had never fucked her in the study before.

* * *

Pyrrha stepped out of a dull blue carriage, with bold yellow letters across the door advertising taxi service and rates. She turned to the driver, an older man who sat on the open seat at the front of the carriage, and thanked him while handing him a tip. She hoped it was a good amount; she hadn't actually seen how much the ride had cost, and she only had the handful of lien her attendant had taken out of the budget for just this purpose. If Miss Gerson was being stingy, Pyrrha had no way of knowing and nothing she could really do about it. But the old man merely nodded and drove off, so she supposed, at the least, it wasn't  _ insultingly  _ low.

She half wished, as she walked up the steps to the flat, that she had simply walked. Since her last visit to Nora's flat over a month ago, her condition had improved greatly, and she doubted she would have turned up on the doorstep flushed and panting this time. But she didn't relish the idea of making such a trip in an evening gown and heels. It wasn't the most elaborate outfit she owned--a dress of soft red velvet, with a fringed neckline that looped around her upper arms--but it might drag or snag, get torn or dirtied, and the heels would have hurt within a quarter mile. A dark red shawl was draped over her otherwise bare shoulders; without her bulky metal collar, it fit much more comfortably. The only jewelry Pyrrha had donned were a pair of gold hoop earrings.

She knocked on the door, and took a step back as it flew open almost immediately. Unlike Pyrrha, Nora was decked out in one of her most extravagant dresses, pink at the neckline and gradually fading to white down towards her hips, with alternating layers of pink and white petticoats hanging about her knees. A daring cutout on the chest exposed a heart-shaped stretch of her pale skin, as well as a modest glimpse of cleavage. Despite the collar around her neck, it wasn't the sort of gown Nora wore when she was working; when she attended Ren to a function, she dressed to compliment his more restrained tastes.  **"Pyrrha! Ha HA! You're here, you came, come IN!"** Nora pulled Pyrrha into a bone-crushing hug, holding her until she thought she could hear her back cracking.

Despite having the breath squeezed from her lungs, Pyrrha managed a chuckle as Nora led her inside and towards the parlour.  **"It's going to be a month before I can see you again, of** _**course** _ **I came. Besides, you throw the best parties."** She was tempted to say something disparaging about the elaborate events they were always being dragged to in the overfields, but by that point they were passing under the balcony, and the watchful pink eyes of Nora's Patron. Ren had forgone his usual subdued ensemble for a mint-green waistcoat, richly embroidered with a darker, forest green that matched his trousers. He was leaning against the banister, arms resting on the railing, watching Nora with a smile so faint Pyrrha thought she might have imagined it. A soft glimmer drew her eye to his left wrist, to the rose-gold charm that hung from his white leather bracelet.

As they passed under the balcony and stepped into the parlour, she asked Nora,  **"So who's coming tonight anyway?"**   
  
**"Just a few friends. Obviously Ren, and of course Jaune. I invited Lady Belladonna, but who knows if she'll show up and also I'm** _**kind of** _ **hoping she doesn't because I** _**also** _ **invited Ruby and Yang--did you know they're back from Atlas? With Lady Schnee? I'm so excited!"**

**"Yes, I've had them over for tea. And I saw them at Lady Fall's party."**   
  
**"Oh that's** _**right** _ **you went to that! I was home with Ren. How was it?"**

Pyrrha's expression soured.  **"** _**The worst** _ **. You had the much better night, I guarantee it."**

**"Oh I could have told you that."** She turned towards Pyrrha as they reached the parlour, leaning her hip against the back of a chair.  **"Anyway, do you think that's going to be awkward, if we have Yang and Lady Belladonna?"**

**"I don't think Belladonna is technically a lady anymore."**

**"What** _**ev** _ **er, that's not the** _**point** _ **. Is it gonna be weird? I mean their whole situation is.** _**Weird** _ **."**

**"Maybe. I don't know. Maybe one of them won't show, or both of them won't show. If you're that concerned, why did you invite them both?"**

**"I didn't think about it! I thought that I missed Yang and Ruby while they were on Atlas. And I thought that Belladonna could use a friend. I didn't,"** she tapped her fingers together awkwardly,  **"I didn't think about how the wires would cross?"**

Pyrrha couldn't help smiling as she put her hands on Nora's shoulders.  **"Do you need me to run interference? If things get awkward, I'm confident I can keep Yang distracted."**

**"You promise?"**

**"I'll challenge her to a duel if I have to. She's been itching to spar."**

**"Thankyouthankyouthankyou!"** Nora gave her a hug, not quite as bone-crushing as the last, but still enough to leave Pyrrha gasping when she finally let go and stepped in to

* * *

**"Almost got him, just a little more..."**

**"Come on, Ren, you've got this!"**

A few drinks in, and Pyrrha's head was just a little too fuzzy to remember who had suggested arm wrestling as the evening's main pursuit, or what line of conversation had even led to it. Nor did she think to question it; at the moment, it seemed perfectly natural. What decent party  _ didn't  _ have arm wrestling?

Ren and Jaune were starting things off. Although no one had said as much, there was a silent agreement that it wouldn't have been fair to pit either Patron against a Huntress. Both men in good shape, and both trained in aura--but only for purposes of purification. At least, Jaune was. Some nobles, for various reasons, honed their auras for combat as Huntresses did, and Pyrrha couldn't speak to Ren's training. She couldn't speak to his mood, either, but she she knew that a crushing defeat--or worse, a pity win--would have bruised Jaune's ego.

Not that her Patron's ego was her concern at the moment. Even so, she had joined Ruby in cheering on Jaune, if only to balance out Nora and Yang's vocal support for Ren. It was a tumultuous match, full of drastic swings back and forth, but eventually, Ren's leverage won out over Jaune's superior strength.

**"Ha HA!"** Nora draped herself over the back of Ren's chair and slung her arms over his shoulders.  **"THAT'S my boy!"**

As Jaune pulled his hand away, shaking it with a wince, Pyrrha took a step towards him to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder--but the lightness of that step stopped her in her tracks. Right. No collar weighing her down. No bracelet on Jaune's wrist. She wasn't working tonight, and he was here as Ren's friend, not her Patron. It would have been inappropriate.

**"My turn!"** declared Nora, as Ren vacated his seat and let her settle in.  **"Pyrrha! Let's go!"**

Jaune got out of the seat, pulling it back for Pyrrha as she sat down. Working or not, she couldn't help but be keenly aware of the heat he had left behind in the cushions. She felt his warmth against her back, beneath her thighs.

She settled her elbow on the table and reached her arm out. Nora took Pyrrha's hand in a firm grip, bracing herself and gritting her teeth. Then someone called go, and her knuckles were on the table in an instant.

Pyrrha had barely registered her loss before Yang called out,  **"My turn!"** Pyrrha vacated the seat for her. She found herself a little wobbly on her feet; she was just a little tipsy, but standing up so quickly had made her head swim a bit.

A hand clapped her on the shoulder, and she flinched, even as it steadied her frame and grounded her thoughts.  **"Guess we're the loser's club tonight."** Jaune flashed her a smile before withdrawing his hand and walking back towards Ren.

Absentmindedly, Pyrrha started to reach up to her shawl where he had touched her; it still felt warm. Then she caught what she was doing, dropped her arm, and went to retrieve a snack--if only to keep her hand occupied.

As she made her way back to the table, tart in hand, Nora and Yang were locked in a fierce struggle, neither one yielding an inch as they groaned and strained. Ruby sidled up to Pyrrha.  **"Yang's totally going to win,"** she said.

Pyrrha shook her head.  **"Maybe with a spike of adrenaline, but I don't think arm wrestling is gonna push her to the edge like that."**

**"Yang takes wrestling** _**very** _ **seriously."** Ruby titled her head to one side.  **"They are** _**not** _ **budging though."**   
  
**"Not a bit."**   
  
**"Should we... make a bet? Is that what people do at these things?"**

**"I don't have any money."**

**"Me either. Well, not on me."** Ruby paused, seemingly in thought.  **"You have a tart though."**

Pyrrha looked down at her hand.  **"I do have a tart. There's a whole tray of them."**

**"Right, so bet that one, and then when you lose you can get a different one."**

Pyrrha laughed.  **"Okay, sure."** After a few minutes of watching the stalemate, it occurred to her to ask,  **"What do I get if--"**

She was interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell. Nora, ever the vigilant host, perked up at the noise. With her attention divided, just for a fraction of a second, Yang was able to break the deadlock and slam Nora's hand to the table.

Ruby threw her hands up in the air.  **"Go Yang! Woo!"** Dropping her arms, she held one hand out to Pyrrha, who handed over her tart with an amused grimace.

Ren approached Nora's side as she withdrew her hand with a playful pout.  **"Should I get the door?"**

**"No, I'll get it. I'm the host!"** She got out of her chair, and stood on her toes to give Ren a peck on the lips before leaving for the foyer.

Yang leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table and her chin on her hands as she eyed Ren.  **"Stealing a kiss on her night off, huh?"**

**"I didn't steal anything. Nora can do as she pleases with her time off."**

Yang smirked and leaned back in the chair.  **"And you please her?"**   
  
**"I certainly try."**

**"That's very sweet,** " said Ruby.

**"Yeah,"** said Yang,  **"I'm just messing with you. Whatever makes you guys happy."**   
  
**"I'm glad you approve."**

The conversation quieted down as Nora returned, a second set of footsteps clacking in her wake.  **"We have a late arrival,"** she said.  **"Presenting Miss Blake Belladonna."** She stepped out of the doorway to let the black-haired Huntress into the parlour.  **"Ta daaaa...?"**

It was probably only the second or third time Pyrrha had ever seen Belladonna without her mask--though she still wore her collar. Her already-pale complexion was completely drained of color, save for the dark circles under her eyes and the visible flush on her cheeks. Despite being dressed more formally than anyone else in the room, with a long, backless black dress and a silken shawl over her shoulders, Belladonna looked a mess. She looked  _ miserable _ . She glanced around the room; when her dark eyes fell on Yang, she hung her head, staring down at her feet.  **"Sorry I'm late,"** she mumbled.

Pyrrha glanced towards Yang, ready to jump in and distract her if things got tense.

To her relief, a grin cracked across the blonde's face, and she leaned her chair back to put her feet up on the table.  **"Come have a seat. We were arm wrestling."**

**"Oh! I haven't gone yet!"** Ruby took a seat and planted her elbow on the table.  **"Blake, come wrestle me!"**

Although it did little to lift her gloomy demeanor, the smile that crept across Belladonna's lips seemed genuine enough. Though she still wasn't meeting anyone's eyes, she sat down and joined in.


	15. A Night At The Opera

_Miss Nikos,_

_You will accompany your Patron to the Royal Opera House this Saturday to attend a concert presented by the Royal Foundation for the Arts, featuring Lady Weiss Schnee as lead vocalist. A carriage will arrive at your residence at 17:36, and you will arrive by 19:00. A light meal will be provided by the venue before the concert and refreshments will be available throughout. Specifics of your departure with your Patron from the function will be determined that evening based on the length of the concert and any social opportunities which may arise. You will spend the night in the guest quarters at Crescent Court which have been reserved for you for such occasions_ _**,** _ _ and you will join the Arc family for breakfast the following morning. Specifics of your departure will be determined in the morning depending on schedule and availability of the Estate's carriages, but transportation will be provided and you will be returned to your residence no later than twelve o clock. _

_ You will wear the garments which accompanied this letter, as well as the black Montijo garter belt and stockings, the white Carson chemise, the Senwell velvet corset, and the Midien circlet already in your possession. You will wear your hair in a ponytail, pinned with the included ornament. _

_ Signed, your Patron, _   
_ Lord Jaune Arc. _

* * *

As Pyrrha sat in the carriage in front of Crescent Court, she took the few minutes she had before Jaune arrived to straighten out her dress. It had a rather unusual compromise between the layered petticoats she usually wore and the slimmer, hip-hugging chemise style that seemed to be coming into favor this season. Just two layers of asymmetrical skirts, deep red over muted gold, cinched at the waist with a bronze colored belt. The neckline was uneven as well, hanging from a strap over one shoulder and cutting diagonally across her chest, though the high-necked garment of sheer fabric that covered her shoulders and tucked into her collar left her feeling a little less exposed. A few loops of bronze chain hung from the shoulder of the dress, draped across the deltoids of her right arm, with nothing on her right and only elbow length red gloves to cover her forearms.

She had to admit, it made a striking silhouette standing up; she just hadn't quite got the hang of it sitting down. If the outer red skirt rode up too much, and she wasn't careful with the slit down the side of the gold skirt, she could end up exposing what was underneath. Which, to be honest, was not as much as she would have liked. She wondered if Jaune had given much thought to how the gown he had sent her would pair with the undergarments he had selected; probably he had made the decisions in isolation, with little regard for how they would work together. He probably wasn't expecting to see them. Although she was spending the night at Crescent Court, and he had been particular about her undergarments, Pyrrha doubted he actually intended to bed her after a long night of opera. It was just in case--the new normal they'd established since Lady Fall's party.

The carriage sank a little, and the doors opened. From the moment Jaune stepped in, he was visibly tense. He sank into the seat opposite her, running his hands through his hair--judging by its disarray, he'd been doing that a lot tonight. His breathing was a bit erratic as well.  **"Hi Pyrrha,** " he said, though he did not so much as look up at her.

After a moment's consideration, Pyrrha said,  **"Lord Arc? May I sit with you?"**

He looked up, blinking with confusion.  **"Huh? Yeah. Sure."**

**"Thank you."** She got up and started to step across the carriage just as it lurched into motion; it would have been easy to adjust her balance, but instead she let herself stumble forward, all but falling against him. She leaned against his chest and rested her head against his shoulder. She resisted the urge to reach up and stroke his hair; that might come off as condescending from her end of their dynamic. But hopefully a bit of physical comfort would be enough to soothe him, at least a little.

He lowered his face into her hair and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Pyrrha wondered if the scent of lilies did anything for him, the way Jaune's cologne had begun to ground her when she felt overwhelmed or adrift. She doubted he associated it with such intense need--but then, he did keep sending her the same perfume, with soaps and shampoos in the same floral scent.

**"Was I..."** He trailed off, then took a deep breath, pulling his head away from her hair.  **"Am I really that obvious?"**

**"You are obviously on edge, if that's what you mean. Is something wrong?"**

**"Not yet. Actually something might be very right, if I don't mess it up."**

**"And you're afraid you'll mess it up?"**

Jaune sighed, turning to look out the window as they crossed the overfields.  **"...so, we're attending this concert as Ren's guests. The Ren Estate have been generous donors to the Royal Foundation for years and years."**

**"Right."** It wasn't uncommon for Jaune to attend concerts or art exhibits at Ren's invitation, but it had never been a source of stress before.  **"Go on...?"**

**"Well, with him being such a generous donor, the Foundation sometimes extends, you know, perks. To him, and his guests. Such as a little face to face time with the artists putting on the exhibits and performances. Like, just as an example, dinner before the concert with the lead soprano."**

_...ah._ **"So we'll be dining with Lady Schnee tonight?"**

**"It will be** _**at most** _ **a dozen people at the table. I will never have a better chance to talk to her, and therefore I will never have a better chance to screw this up, and I'm not ready and I spent six weeks trying to figure out the right suit and I just ended up in this."** He gestured at the white and gold ensemble he was wearing.

**"...I think this looks very dashing on you."**

**"Pyrrha, this is the exact same suit I wore the last time she saw me at Fall's party. She's going to think I can only afford one suit, Pyrrha."**

**"She's going to think you know what you like and what looks good on you, and that you're confident enough to commit to an aesthetic."**

**"You're lying. You're lying to make me feel better. Please keep doing it."**

**"Look, I'm sure Lady Schnee is more interested in what you have to say than what you're wearing."**   
****

**"Gods, I'm going to have to** _**say** _ **something. What do I say? What's popular right now? What's a good joke?"**

_**"Jaune,"** _ Pyrrha said, as sternly as she could bring herself to.  **"Calm down and breathe."**

Jaune's mouth snapped shut; he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Little by little, his panic seemed to fade, and Pyrrha found some relief in his calm.

**"Sorry,"** he said.  **"I just... last time I pissed her off just by talking. And I think she's still mad that you chose me for your Patron."**

**"I can see why she's frustrated,"** Pyrrha said,  **"but she has no reason to direct it towards you. I** _**am** _ **the one that made the choice."**

_ And she's the one who started fighting over me with Fall,  _ she didn't say,  _ like I was a prize who had no say in the matter. _

Somehow, Pyrrha didn't think that besmirching the woman Jaune was so clearly smitten with would go over well. Even without his crush, she wasn't sure he would understand why it had bothered her. At worst, it might make him feel like she had only signed with him out of spite. No, it was better to hold her tongue on this.

**"If you feel like I'm a sore spot with her, would it be better if I didn't come? It's not too late to send me home, and you could say I was feeling ill."**

**"I appreciate the thought."** He wrapped an arm around her; Pyrrha tried and failed to stop the shiver that ran down her spine as he pulled her close.  **"But I need you. It's... a lot easier to be confident in public with a beautiful woman hanging off my arm."**

**"Glad I could help,"** she breathed, her voice trembling slightly.

* * *

**"Pyrrhaaaaa!"**

As Nora got up from her seat, Pyrrha braced herself for a hug, but was surprised when her friend merely took her by the hands. At first she thought Nora was simply showing restraint while on the clock--as evidenced by her understated green cheongsam--but a glance at her eyes showed a distinct lack of her usual energy.

**"Nora! I wasn't sure you would make it. How long have you been back from Remnant?"**

**"Just a few days. Still a little tired, to be honest. I thought about staying home, but that would have been borrrrrinnnnng."**

**"Well, I'm glad to have you with us."** Pyrrha disentangled her fingers from her friend's, settling once again into her place at Jaune's side and taking his arm, and they followed Nora back to the table. There were two seats open on Ren's right, near the head of the table. Pyrrha wasn't entirely confident about the etiquette, but she suspected that of the four chairs set aside for Ren's party, she and Jaune were supposed to take the two farther from the guest of honor. Pyrrha guessed that Ren was helping Jaune get closer to Lady Schnee, if only by a seat or two.

And then Jaune took the seat next to Ren, leaving Pyrrha to take the seat closest to where Schnee would be sitting.

Well, one seat probably didn't make a difference. Perhaps he wanted a buffer. Pyrrha would give him what support she could, but in the end, it wasn't her place to argue with his decisions.

Other nobles trickled in to fill out the table--some of whom Pyrrha recognized, but not by name. Most weren't Patrons, and although Pyrrha recognized a courtesan escorting a short-haired brunette, she and Nora remained the only Huntresses at the table. At least, until the guest of honor arrived, with Ruby following behind her, taking care not to step on the trailing hem of Lady Schnee's long white gown. Pyrrha wondered if her current dress was the one Schnee intended to perform in--it was certainly fancy enough, an elaborate ensemble of opaque and translucent silks with extensive silver embroidery, but if so it was very daring. A single morsel of spilled food could stain the cloth quite visibly. Ruby, for her part, wore a comparatively subdued black dress, although the silver embroidery was nearly as elaborate as her Patron's.

Schnee settled into her seat, enveloping the table in a cloud of pine-scented perfume. Ruby sat down between her and Pyrrha. As a man across from her started talking to Lady Schnee, Pyrrha attempted to make small talk with her fellow Huntress.  **"A pleasure to see you, Miss Rose. How is your sister?"**

**"Good! Probably. I don't know for sure, she's on a mission. But she's probably good, she's good at..."**

As Ruby floundered for words, Lady Schnee stepped in smoothly.  **"Miss Xiao Long is retrieving a new seed of aluminum for Vale. Of course, we have every confidence in her skills, and are looking forward to her return in three weeks."**

**"Ah, of course,"** said Pyrrha.  **"I think I saw that expedition on the logs. But I didn't realize Miss Xiao Long had departed already."**

**"If you were looking through the logs,"** said Schnee,  **"then are you planning a mission of your own? Or, I suppose in Vale you prefer 'expedition'..."**

**"When are you leaving?"** asked Ruby.  **"What are you getting?"**

Before Pyrrha could answer, Jaune leaned towards the head of the table and said,  **"Selenium. For hydroponics and vitamin supplements. Departure is scheduled in... about two weeks?"**

Though it was not directed at her, even secondhand exposure to Lady Schnee's icy stare made Pyrrha want to crawl under the table. Given that he was taking the full brunt of her disdain, the fact that Jaune  _ merely  _ snapped his mouth shut and slumped back into his chair was, in its own way, a testament to his character. Pyrrha reached over to pat his hand as surreptitiously as she could manage. Despite her attempt at reassurance, he remained in sullen silence for a while longer. Eventually the topic of conversation turned towards the program for the concert.

**"May I say, Lady Schnee,"** said the short-haired woman,  **"I am particularly looking forward to your rendition of** _**Maiden of Mantle** _ **."**

**"Thank you,"** said Schnee.  **"I shall try not to disappoint."**

**"I thought I was well versed in Williams' work,"** said the man to her right,  **"but I don't believe I'm familiar with this** _**Red Like Roses** _ **song..."**

**"It's from one of my missions,"** chirped Ruby.  **"Second to last, I think. Seems appropriate!"**

**"Yes,"** said Schnee,  **"this is to be the first live performance since its retreival."**

For the first time in perhaps half an hour, Jaune leaned forward to chime in.  **"We're very lucky to be able to hear it. Thank you for the opportunity, Lady Schnee. This contribution to the arts is truly a credit to your family. I--"**

**"It's a credit to Miss Rose,"** said Schnee sharply.  **"I didn't do anything."**

**"Well. Uh. That is."** Jaune seemed to be grasping for words.  **"...I'm sure you had to do a lot of planning, and--"**

**"I can't** _**stand** _ **Patrons who try to take credit for the work of their Huntresses."** Jaune withered under Lady Schnee's icy glare.  **"My accomplishments are not so** _**sparse** _ **that I need to pad them out by claiming Miss Rose's."**

Pyrrha expected Jaune to lapse back into silence for the rest of the evening; she felt a slight glow of pride as he rallied to say,  **"If nothing else, you** _**are** _ **going to be the one singing it. And I think we are all,** _**very** _ **lucky, to be able to hear that."**

Schnee offered no retort, but held her gaze until finally Jaune broke eye contact. Then she said,  **"Speaking of which, I must prepare. Excuse me."** She placed both hands on the table, almost but not quite slamming them, and stood up. Ruby started to get out of her chair, but Schnee said,  **"Please stay with our guests, Miss Rose."**

**"Sure,"** said Ruby.

Without Schnee, the gathering more or less fell quiet. Conversations cropped up and died down before they could go anywhere, and most of the dinner guests seemed to be hurrying through their meal so they could get to their seats. Everyone except Ruby, who picked at her food until most of the others had left.

Eventually, Pyrrha had to put a hand on Jaune's shoulder and shook him gently, trying to shake him out of his gloomy mood.  **"Should we head to Ren's box?"** she asked.   
  
**"Yeah..."** He got to his feet, eyes still downcast, and started to trudge towards the door.

**"Wait,"** said Ruby, now the last person at the table.

Pyrrha glanced at Jaune; seeing that Ruby had piqued his interest, she stopped and turned to her fellow Huntress.

**"I'm trying to decide if I should say something,"** Ruby said. She put her elbow up on the table, leaning her chin into her palm and drumming the fingers of her other hand on the table. Her brow furrowed with thought, until finally she stood up. She headed towards the door, but stopped ahead of Jaune and Pyrrha.

With her back to the two of them, she spoke quietly.  **"Do you... think Weiss gets to plan my missions? Do you think she even gets to pick them? Or what songs she sings, or when, or where?"**

They all stood in silence for a few moments, before Jaune said,  **"I guess not. You... probably shouldn't have said anything, though. It's not right for me to be hearing it from you."**

**"Maybe not. But it's my job to be there for Weiss, and sometimes that means saying what she can't say for herself."** Ruby turned to face them.  **"Enjoy the show."**

After Ruby left, Jaune trudged towards the balconies in sullen silence; Pyrrha was all but carrying him up the stairs. Eventually they reached Ren's box, and after giving a polite greeting to Ren and Nora (which Jaune halfheartedly repeated), she settled her Patron onto the other couch and cuddled up against him. She reached an arm behind him and began to rub his back, gradually applying more and more pressure as she kneaded between his shoulder blades. Massage was the only area where her etiquette tutor had not labeled Pyrrha hopeless, and it was gratifying to feel the tension ebbing from Jaune's muscles little by little. Then he shrugged his shoulders, pushing her arm away, and took her by the waist. He pulled her halfway into his lap and looped an arm around her midsection; Pyrrha stifled a yelp as her heartbeat spiked.  _ Keep it together. You bedded him just yesterday, you can't be falling apart already. _

The lights dimmed, the music started. The first few songs were largely orchestral, with the occasional vocalist for flavor. Eventually, Jaune began to run his fingers idly up and down her side; Pyrrha closed her eyes with a shudder. Her dress provided just enough separation from his skin to make the touch all the more tantalizing, and it was getting very hard to focus. But at least Jaune's mood seemed to be improving.

At least, until Schnee took the stage.

She had changed into a white gown with flowing sleeves, a long train, and a high collar whose red interior framed her pale face. Her stage makeup managed to project some semblance of elegant beauty, even up to the balcony. The orchestra fell quiet as she gazed across the crowd, a hushed silence washed over the room, and she began to sing.

She started with little more than a vocal exercise, a wordless croon with a simple melody, but from the first note Jaune tensed again. Pyrrha couldn't blame him; the simplicity of the song, if anything, served to highlight the talent of the singer. Her high voice was crystal clear, her pitch perfect, her range  _ astounding _ . After letting the star vocalist show off for a bit, the orchestra joined back in, building a foundation underneath her voice--or perhaps a pedestal was more apt. Pyrrha couldn't help but be entranced.

Then Jaune's hand began to move again, and her trance was broken by the rush of heat through her body. As his hand strayed down towards her hip, she could feel her face burning as red as her hair, and her breath was starting to become shallow. If she didn't get it under control soon, people would start to notice--Ren and Nora, maybe even people in the other balcony boxes. She looked up at Jaune, but he wasn't looking at her. His eyes were on the stage, but he wasn't looking at Schnee either. The distant look on his face reminded her of the carriage, of his mood after Lady Fall's party.

So really, it shouldn't have come as so much of a surprise when his fingers began to slide between the layers of her skirt, seeking her skin underneath. Ice might have run through her veins, were they not so consumed with fire.  _ We are in PUBLIC what are you DOING? _

**"Ja--nng--"** Her whispered protest fell to a strangled groan as he dug his fingers into the skin of her thigh. Although she was sure his nails would leave marks in her skin for hours to come, the sharp pain was almost lost in the spike of pleasure.

His fingers trailed up her thigh until he reached the point where her legs met. She was wearing the same garter belt he had given her for her first real purification--the one that didn't cover an inch of her groin. She had worried about exposing herself in an embarrassing accident. She hadn't even considered that Jaune might try something like this.  _ Was he planning this...? I don't think he even realizes he's doing it... _

**"** _**Lord A** _ **\-- ah-- ahh..."** Her words collapsed into ragged pants as his finger ran up her slit, and she clamped her mouth shut.

She couldn't tell him no. Even if she could open her mouth without a mortifying moan, he was within the bounds of their contract. Skirting some edges, perhaps, edges that had seemed so distant Pyrrha had never thought to worry about where they were, but still. She couldn't stop this. She didn't have the right, and as she jerked and quivered from his teasing fingers, she wasn't sure she had the will. But she could pray to the gods that he would come to his senses, before she completely lost hers.

As the music swelled, Jaune's groping grew more fervent, and Pyrrha screwed her eyes shut. As his fingers parted the lips of her pussy, her mouth parted unbidden as well.  **"Ah--"**

Before she could let out any noise that might disrupt the concert, she brought a hand to her face and bit down on her knuckle, forcing herself to clench her jaw so no sound could escape. With every new thrust of his fingers, every new wave of pleasure that rocked her body, she felt herself loosening her grip to cry out, and bit down all the harder to stop herself.

The hand not in her mouth, she braced against Jaune, tangling her fingers in his trousers in a desperate attempt to ground herself. Her hips were twitching, instinctively pushing into his fingers, then pulling away again when the sensation became too overwhelming--but every time she pulled back, Jaune just pushed farther. There was no respite. Her back would arch, then sag, her posture collapsing in on itself sporadically. She tensed her legs, trying not to squirm, to flail, to make a scene. She planted one foot against the floor and pressed until she felt the heel of her stiletto break.

In some corner of her mind, she knew that Nora and Ren must have noticed by now. But she had mostly forgotten they were there. She certainly wasn't aware of the music anymore. She couldn't quite remember why she felt humiliated or afraid, but the feelings were still there. They just... didn't do anything to dim the waves of pleasure assaulting her senses. Nor did the pain in her finger, the growing taste of iron in her mouth.

Finally,  _ finally,  _ she found release, her back arching and her head falling back against Jaune's shoulder. Her eyes fluttered open, only to roll back in her head as she tensed, shuddered, and came, drenching Jaune's hand with a torrent of fluids.

After a moment, he withdrew his fingers from her pussy; she could no longer find the discipline to clench her jaw, and a muffled whine of protest escaped around her knuckle. Jaune disentangled his hand from her skirt and worked his leg out from under Pyrrha.

**"...excuse me."** His voice was quiet, but more than that it was... small. Unsteady. He sounded almost as humiliated as Pyrrha. Almost.  **"Back in a moment."**

He stood up, hunching a bit so as not to draw any furhter attention to himself, and left the box, leaving Pyrrha to sprawl across the couch, limply grasping the back to stop herself from slipping to the floor while she tried to regain her composure. Or at least her muscle control.

At some point, a voice pulled at her hazy thoughts. Nora's whisper was louder than Jaune's timid voice had been.  **"Do you need me to kick his ass?"**

Pyrrha lay silent; it took her a while to process the question, let alone formulate an answer. And as soon as she realized that Nora wasn't  _ seriously  _ offering to assault a nobleman (probably), she realized that wasn't what Nora was really asking. (Probably.) She was just asking if Pyrrha needed help.

Finally, as Jaune ducked into the box again, Pyrrha replied with a mortified whimper.  **"...no."**

Jaune sat down on the couch, seeming to avoid contact as much as he could--Pyrrha was still sprawled out, and he didn't seem interested in moving her, or even telling her to move, so he couldn't avoid her completely. But he squeezed himself into the corner of the couch, folded his hands in his lap, and kept his eyes fixed on the stage.

And more humiliating than having her patron's hand up her skirts in public, than being forced to orgasm at an opera, was the disappointment she felt over Jaune keeping his hands to himself. How, how how  _ how _ , after all that, after that  _ wretched _ , mortifying experience, did she want fucking  _ more? _


	16. Earnestness

Jaune didn't lay a finger on Pyrrha for the rest of the performance; she was both relieved and frustrated. Her body was still on fire, and it was hard to focus on the music. Of course, the collar weighing down on her was a constant reminder that she was working--that she was here to make sure the night went well for Jaune, that he looked good and made a good impression on the other nobles. She wasn't here to enjoy the concert, but she had hoped she could do both. Instead... had she done either? She'd done her best, but there was only so much she could do when Jaune was acting like this.

Eventually the concert was over; by that time, her skirts were more or less dry, though still a bit stiff, she was presentable enough to attend Jaune through his polite farewells (as long as no one looked at her feet and the broken stiletto). Jaune made a bit of chit-chat about the concert, the song selection; several guests were gushing over the "lost Williams masterpiece" that had been performed. Jaune, to his credit, managed to put on a polished smile and be personable. Charming, even. If only he could have mustered this sort of mood at dinner, the evening might have gone far more smoothly, but Pyrrha could hardly fault him when Schnee had been glaring daggers at him.

Finally they made their way back to the carriage; they sat on opposite sides, and Pyrrha was still not sure how she felt about that. Once the doors closed and they were out of public eyes, Jaune fell into a gloomy mood again, and although Pyrrha made a few half-hearted attempts at small talk, his tired, mumbled answers discouraged her, and eventually she stopped trying.

It was Jaune who broke the silence with a long, weary sigh. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and looking down at his feet.  **"I really shouldn't have done that, should I?"**

**"...which part?"**

**"That's fair. That could apply to almost anything I said or did all evening."**

Pyrrha sighed. She wasn't much in the mood to reassure him, but it was still her job, and she was a professional.  **"You had your moments. When Schnee was berating you, and you still managed to stay composed enough to compliment her singing, I was a little impressed. And..."** She tilted her head to one side, thoughtful.  **"What you said to Ruby. Not wanting to hear Schnee's secrets from her. I thought that was admirable."**

**"I mean, I didn't say it until after she had already told me, I don't know how much credit I get for that. Can I please get back to--I know you're trying to comfort me. But if you want to put me at ease, you'll let me apologize properly."** He took a deep breath.  **"I shouldn't have... have...** _**fingered you at the opera.** _ **Gods, even** _**saying** _ **it is humiliating, I can barely imagine how you must have felt. I certainly made your job a lot harder."**

**"You did. Jaune, I was... I was** _**mortified** _ **. I** _**know** _ **my contract doesn't draw a line, between what we can do in public versus private, but I just never expected..."** She trailed off, her face flushing red as she turned away from him.

**"And I never intended! I--the night wasn't going how I had hoped, and then Weiss was singing and I was thinking about what Rose said, and I felt like such a fucking idiot, and--"**

**"And you took it out on me."** Pyrrha allowed herself a bit of sternness. If he wanted an honest conversation so he could give an earnest apology, she wasn't going to coddle him on this.

**"I did. And I shouldn't have. I'm sorry."**

**"...I don't mind if you blow off steam with me, Jaune. It's part of my job. Just not in public, please."**

**"It won't happen again."**

**"Can I trust your word on this?"**

He looked up at her.  **"I wish I could say yes. The best I can say is, you won't have to. We can meet with a solicitor, have the contract amended, and then if I have a lapse in self-control again you'll be well within your rights to... I dunno. Break my fingers."**

She sighed, leaning back in her seat.  **"I'm not going to break your fingers, Jaune. I would miss them too much."** She flushed again at the recognition of her own voice, saying words she had intended to keep locked up in her head. Before Jaune could respond, she hurried to change the subject.  **"And I don't want to amend the contract when we're, what, six months from renewal? We'll add it when we renegotiate."**

**"...okay. If that's how you want to handle it."**

**"It is. So..."** Pyrrha took a deep breath, then closed her eyes and let it out slowly.  **"So I accept your apology."**

**"I'm glad."**

**"...and, not to undercut the moment, but I think I'm going to need some antiseptic when we get to Crescent Court."**

**"From biting your finger?"**   
  
**"Yeah."**

**"Okay. I'll take care of you."**

_ Fffffuck.  _ Why did he have to say it like that? Was it his choice of words or his soothing voice that sent the shiver down her spine?

The rest of the carriage ride passed in silence. Pyrrha tried, desperately and to no avail, to will the heat that consumed her body to fade. Before long, she was being led up to her room at Crescent Court. She hung her head the entire way, trying not to let anyone see the flush on her cheeks. She didn't know why she bothered; there was no one around but Jaune, and if he had somehow not noticed by now, he was never going to.

Finally she was sitting down on her bed, extending her hand to Jaune. He began to peel off her glove, ever so gently, examining the bite marks on her knuckle.  **"Sorry,"** he said.  **"I really put you through a lot tonight, huh?"**

She didn't answer. She was barely paying attention. All of Pyrrha's attention was on keeping herself under control. Gods, why did he have to be so... gentle? So  _ tender?  _ It was driving her  _ mad _ .

The antiseptic stung against her finger, and she jerked her hand back reflexively--but without aura behind her, Jaune's firm, steady grip on her wrist was too much for her slender arm. Of course, normally she used her aura as instinctively as her muscles, but not when she felt this... safe? Was that how she felt right now? Her heart was pounding, her body was burning, and yet somehow she felt secure.

When her bite had been disinfected thoroughly, Jaune secured a bit of gauze around her finger, then loosened his grip on Pyrrha's hand.

She did not pull away.

Finally he lowered his head and planted a gentle kiss on her knuckles, and Pyrrha shuddered.

He sighed.  **"I kind of left you a wreck all evening, huh?"** She could barely process the words, distracted by the feeling of his breath washing over her skin, his lips moving against her hand.  **"I don't blame you if you're still mad at me. But let me make it up to you."**

Pyrrha was...  _ so  _ glad, that he had apologized. If he hadn't, it would have been much,  _ much  _ more embarrassing when she fell back on the bed, spreading her legs for him with a moan.

* * *

**"...Pyrrha?"**

Pyrrha's head was still too fuzzy to put together an intelligible reply--and more to the point, her breath was still too short. All she could manage was,  **"Huh?"** It was barely distinguishable from any other shallow, ragged pant that was making its way past her lips right now.

**"Are we friends?"**

Pyrrha tried to process the question, while also trying to take stock of her current situation. She was stripped down to her stockings and garter belt, laying atop her completely nude Patron after collapsing on him. She was gasping for air, drenched in sweat and other fluids, and absolutely exhausted. And her body still twitched with pleasure as it seemed every other heaving breath she took shifted his half-hard cock, still lodged in her sopping wet cunt. Her head swam with the scents of sweat, cum, lilies, and lemongrass.

**"...I don't know how to answer that."**

**"I guess this is a weird time to ask."**

**"I mean... at least pull out first..."**

He chuckled, reaching his hands down to her hips. Pyrrha couldn't help but whine as he rolled her off him, though she still snuggled up against his side, burying her face into his chest. He reached up and began stroking her hair.   
  
**"Nnn... 'm gonna fall asleep if you keep... mmm..."**

**"It's been a long night. You should get some rest. But I'm going to selfish just a bit longer, I have something I want to ask you."**

**"If we're friends...?"**

**"No, not that. Well, yes that, but that's--I need some advice. On Lady Schnee. It's not--this isn't really your job, though. Right? I mean, taking you with me to a party for support, that's one thing. But like, what I should do when you're not around, that's more a friend thing than a business thing. And I would ask Ren, but all his advice on women is very. Nora-centric."**

**"Makes sense. 's'worked wonders for him. And her."**

**"Yeah, they seem very happy, but I don't** _**want** _ **to date Nora. I want to be with Weiss."**

The way he said her name was strangely sobering. Had he called Schnee by her first name before, no titles, no surname? Surely he had, and yet this seemed... different. Like he was talking about a real person, not some mythical figure atop an unreachable pedestal. For the first time, it felt like he was serious about this.

**"What did you want to ask?"**

**"Well. The technicians have mostly finished extracting the data from the cylinders you retrieved on your last expedition. Hundreds of hours of classic opera."**

A sinking feeling began to drag Pyrrha down from her afterglow.  **"...you're going to give it to her, aren't you?"**

**"That was the plan. But, after tonight, and what she said about, Patrons taking credit for their Huntresses, I'm not so sure."**

Pyrrha didn't know what to say. A pit was starting to form in her stomach.  _ The entire time, that whole expedition, everything I went through down there, all for... _

When Jaune had suggested the conservatory expedition, she'd been completely on board. Opera didn't keep Vale's infrastructure running, but people  _ needed  _ art, as much as they needed food or air or medicine. And while people were still making art, still creating and expressing themselves,  _ so much  _ had been lost with the fall of Remnant. It was a tragedy, one worth risking her life to rectify.

She wasn't sure she felt the same way about a courtship gift. It felt like a petty distinction--at the end of the day, the music would still be shared, still be performed, it was just a matter of who got the credit for it. She was still getting everything she had signed on for, nothing about Jaune's intentions changed that.

But... she had been raped, so he could impress a girl. A girl he barely knew, for that matter, who probably wouldn't be all that impressed. It was hard not to take it personally.

Finally she said,  **"I want to ask you a question."**

**"Hm?"**

**"What do you see in her?"**

Jaune gazed up at the ceiling, seemingly deep in thought. Pyrrha expected he would mention Weiss' famed beauty. She had a hard time imagining it would be the Schnee family's wealth, but if it were, who was she to fault him for pragmatism? She had bartered her body to get out of the undercity, as much as for any good she could do for Vale as a Huntress.

**"...doesn't it break your heart, to hear her sing?"**

_Ah, her music._ **"She is an incredible performer."**

**"No, not--I mean, yes, she is, but that's not what I'm talking about."** Jaune lapsed into silence for a moment, then sat up, running his hand through his hair.  **"What Miss Rose said about Weiss? I already knew. I mean, more or less. From the first time I heard her sing, her very first concert on Vale, I felt like she was... trapped. And I saw myself in her."**

Pyrrha sat up slowly, leaning against his shoulder, waiting for him to go on.

**"I'm, I'm only,** _**barely** _ **a noble, really. Like..."** He took a deep breath, clapping both hands on his face and dragging them down slowly.  **"Completely apart from how unfair it was to you. What I did tonight, at the concert? If word got around, that doesn't just reflect on me. No one would remember my great grandfather's war record, my father's part in deposing the Mad Queen. For generations, Arc would be the name of a pervert who gave a woman a handjob at the opera."** He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.  _**"That's** _ **how tenuous our standing is. I have so much riding on every little thing I say and do, so many expectations to live up to. It's... it's suffocating."**

He fell silent, and for a moment Pyrrha thought he was actually struggling to breathe. Finally he spoke again.

**"Weiss may carry it better, but she has the same weight on her shoulders. Every word, every step, an opportunity to let her family down. She has to be poised, proper,** _**perfect,** _ **all the time, for everyone. Probably even her Huntresses."** He sighed, looping an arm around Pyrrha's shoulders and pulling her close.  **"I'm luckier. I have you."**

Pyrrha couldn't help but shiver at his words. She forced herself to focus on the conversation, furrowing her brow and trying to think.  **"...and you want her to have you?"**

**"I want her to have** _**something** _ **. And in my wildest dreams, yeah. It could be me."**

They were silent for a while longer. Finally Pyrrha said,  **"Don't give her the music."** She paused.  **"Not... not all of it."**

**"No?"**

**"No. Go through it yourself. Find something that reminds you of Weiss. That speaks to... everything you just told me, everything you feel about her."**

**"...because then I've put at least a little work into it. A little thought. It's something personal."** He nodded.  **"A much better idea than just... handing over the fruits of your labor."** With a relieved sight that sounded almost as weary as Pyrrha felt, Jaune fell back to the bed, pulling her down with him. He buried his face in her hair and murmured,  **"What did I do to deserve you?"**

* * *

When Pyrrha woke up, Jaune was already gone. She didn't know what time it was, but she was still.  _ So  _ tired. She rolled over on her side, not in any rush to get out of bed until someone made her. She drifted in and out of consciousness for what must have been hours before she heard a slight clatter at the door. She rolled over to see Jaune, carrying a tray of food.

**"...did I miss breakfast?"**

**"I mean, I kept you up till like... four in the morning, I thought I should let you sleep."**

**"Mm... what time is it now?"**

**"It's about ten. Which, is still not a lot of sleep, I know, but I promised to have you home in two hours, so..."**

As she propped herself up on her elbows, Pyrrha realized she was still naked. Two hours to eat, get dressed, and take the carriage home. She sat bolt upright. No time to lose.

She felt almost ashamed to be wolfing down her breakfast so hastily; it was such a waste of the delicate croissant and artisanal omelet. She had just enough time, though, to wonder about the piece of paper folded under her plate. It seemed to be blank. Between gulps, she tapped at it.  **"What's this?"**

**"Oh. A page for my tome. All my other friends have them, so..."**

She paused, swallowing a mouthful of food.  **"...so we** _**are** _ **friends?"**

**"Aren't we? I mean. I can take it back if--"**   
  
As he started to reach for the paper, Pyrrha grabbed it from under her plate.  **"No take backs."** She allowed herself a teasing grin, which quickly lapsed into a warm, somewhat tired smile.  **"Thank you, Jaune."**

* * *

Pyrrha sat on a stool in her bathroom, looking up at the ceiling and trying not to squirm during her pelvic exam. She hadn't really gotten any less sensitive over the past few months, but she had gotten more used to it, and it didn't seem as embarassing anymore when she got a little aroused during a checkup.

**"Healthy enough,"** Argent said, withdrawing the speculum from between Pyrrha's labia.  **"Anything unusual? Soreness, discharge...?"**

**"Nothing out of the ordinary."**

**"Well then."** The surgeon stood up.  **"Avoid heavy exertion for the rest of the week, don't want you straining anything at the last minute. I would say no sex, but I doubt you're in a position to follow through on that."**

**"I... really don't function, anymore, without purification twice a week."**

**"Fair enough. Then at the very least, keep it tame. I don't know what all you get up to, but no restraints, no bloodplay, no choking or gags. No drugs, including liquor--at least for you, the boy can do as he pleases, and I know it's hardly fair but he's not the one going on expedition."**

**"That's fine. I understand."**

**"And if you need purification up here, you'll need masturbation down there, so if your contract has any restrictions on that you'd best get them sorted out."**

**"I've already got permission from my Patron."** Jaune had been a bit surprised when she asked; apparently it hadn't occured to him that the wording on her contract might require his permission to relieve herself. He had been quick to give her clearance while she was planetside--but had conspicuously withheld it for her time on Vale. That didn't bother her. As long as he was around, Jaune would take care of her.

**"Then,"** said Argent,  **"I am prepared to declare you fit for travel. Any questions or concerns?"**

**"I'm a little worried about my shoulder. It's very cold where I'm headed; could that exacerbate old injuries?"**

**"Depends on the injury, but if you're talking about the bite, it's unlikely. It's healed up quite well. Physically speaking, I'd say you're in the best shape of your life."**

Pyrrha tried not to beam with pride at the assessment. She'd messed up last time, but she wouldn't let anyone down again.  **"Thank you, Doctor Argent."**

* * *

_ Hello. Hope I'm not imposing, but it's been a while since I gave you this page and I hadn't gotten any messages. Wanted to see if it was working. _

_ I guess I could have asked you in person, but it didn't seem like the right time. _

_ \--J. Arc _

_ Sorry. I've been so busy with the final preparations for the expedition. Plus I always feel weird being the first person to write on a blank page. _

_ \--P. Nik _

_ That's fine, I just wanted to make sure it works. Are you looking forward to your expedition? _

_ \--J. Arc _

_ I'm looking forward to getting back in the field. I'm getting a bit restless up here. _

_ But I am going to miss you down there. _

_ \--P. Nik _

_ Hey, Pyrrha. _

_ Do you remember what I asked you after the concert? _

_ \--J. Arc _

_ About Lady Schnee, or about us being friends? _

_ \--P. Nik _

_ No, after all of that. Just before you fell asleep, I asked what I did to deserve you. _

_ \--J. Arc _

_ Oh. I thought it was a rhetorical question. _

_ \--P. Nik _

_ It was, but you answered. _

_ \--J. Arc _

_ I did? I don't remember that. _

_ \--P. Nik _

_ Well, you sort of answered. _

_ You mumbled something and passed out. _

_ Is it okay if I ask you what you meant? _

_ \--J. Arc _

_ I don't even remember what I said, let alone what I meant. _

_ \--P. Nik _

_ I think you said "You asked." _

_ Was the bar really that low? _

_ You don't have to answer. I don't want to make it weird. _

_ Never mind. _

_ \--J. Arc _

_ I probably meant, "You asked me." _

_ Emphasis on 'me.' _

_ \--P. Nik _

_ I guess I don't really follow. _

_ \--J. Arc _

_ The moment she found out that Lady Fall had made me an offer, Schnee dragged her in front of the Regent to settle their dispute. I wasn't consulted in any of it. _

_ If Weiss had asked me, even once, I could have told her that I would never, EVER have signed on with Cinder Fall. _

_ Except apparently it wasn't up to me. They took it as a given that I would go along with whatever fate they decided for me. And so did every other noble in Vale. _

_ Except you. _

_ \--P. Nik _

_ So you didn't get any other offers? It was me or Fall? _

_ \--J. Arc _

_ It was probably you or Schnee. I can't imagine any world where those negotiations came out in Fall's favor. _

_ But you ASKED me. You asked ME if I actually wanted to be your Huntress. Schnee never did. _

_ Maybe that doesn't seem like much, but Jaune, I want you to remember. I chose you over her. _

_ And so far, I have no regrets about that choice. _

_ \--P. Nik _


	17. Interlude: White Reflection

A large, ornate carriage rolled through the overfields. The wood was stained a cool gray, which looked almost blue thanks to the subtle accents of muted navy. The doors on either side of the carriage displayed prominent snowflake designs--inlaid platinum, polished almost white.

The carriage rolled to a halt in front of a three story manor of white marble and wood, the front facade emblazoned with a golden crest of a double crescent. The door to the carriage opened with a hiss, letting out a rush of cool air from the climate controlled interior. Stairs unfolded from the undercarriage, making an easy path to the ground for the white-haired beauty who stepped out.

Weiss Schnee was wearing the plainest and least formal ensemble she would dare to be seen in public with: a double-breasted white peacoat, and layers upon layers of white petticoats, fringed with black lace. Black piping decorated the bold lapels and high collar of the coat, and ran down the front of her jacket in two lines--subtly curved to suggest a fuller chest than the slim woman actually possessed.

The stairs folded back into her carriage as Weiss surveyed Crescent Court. Gods, the place was smaller than Ashcroft--which in turn, would have fit in its entirety inside the grand ballroom of the White Chateau back in Atlas.  _How_ many Arcs supposedly lived here? Not to mention all their staff, and presumably the occasional guest. How did anyone live like this?

She was tempted to turn around and go home. But, no, that would be beneath her. Beneath the Schnee name, to renege on an appointment just because the location was cramped and gaudy. She was supposed to be magnanimous towards those of lower social status--which was practically everybody. She found it easier, though, to respect hard working commoners, like Mister Sieben or her Huntresses, than these sorts of... bottom shelf nobles, who were allowed to coast through life, free from both the threat of poverty and the pressures of status.

But, she was still expected to be civil with them, and she could no more have turned down Arc's invitation (not without a good excuse, anyway) than she could walk away now that she had accepted it. She steeled herself and strode up the front steps, knocking firmly on the door.

She was met by a butler, who led her through the vestibule and into the central hall, where she was immediately confronted with six blonde young women leaning over the second floor balcony, smirking down at her. Some of them she recognized from assorted social events, but she had never spoken to any of them, never been introduced or learned their names. Weiss did her best not to acknowledge the Arc sisters as she was led up the stairs, but their presence did put a little more pressure on her to carry herself with all the poise and grace she could muster.

The butler led her through the second floor. At some point, the narrow hallway and muted lighting began to put her on edge. Before, the well lit, open rooms felt like shared, communal areas--used by family, staff, and guest alike. This seemed more like a private suite. On the first floor, she had been at Crescent Court, a guest of the Arc Estate. Now she felt like a guest of Jaune Arc, visiting his private chambers. It was a little more... intimate, than she was entirely comfortable with. She reminded herself that, with such a large family sharing a manor smaller than the Schnee's vacation home, they probably didn't keep that much space to themselves. Still, some part of her dreaded that she would find herself ushered in to the young Lord's bedchamber. (The way he looked at her when he thought she wasn't paying attention was by no means lewd, but it made his interest  _painfully_ obvious.)

Thankfully, she was led instead to a modest study: cozy, a little bit cluttered, but not cramped by any means. Lord Arc sat behind a desk, dressed a bit more casually than she had expected--a black waistcoat, sparsely trimmed in gold, over a white shirt and black trousers. Despite his choice of clothes, he was failing spectacularly to look casual, almost quivering with excited tension. She could imagine him watching the door like a hawk, and scrambling to turn his attention elsewhere when the knob so much as twitched.

**"Lady Weiss Schnee to see you, sir."**

**"Thank you,"** Arc said, as the butler bowed and left. He stood up from his seat, circling around to pull out the chair on the other side of the desk.  **"Lady Schnee, please come have a seat."** Weiss strode across the room and sat, straightening her petticoats over her lap as Arc circled back around the desk. He took his seat again, shifting a tray with a tea set and platter of sweets towards the center of the desk.  **"Coffee? Biscuit?"**

**"No cookies. I suppose I'll take a coffee,"** Weiss said. She waited as he poured out two cups and took the one he offered to her. She couldn't help making a face as Arc drowned his cup in cream; what was the point of drinking coffee if you didn't like the taste? Then she took a sip from her own coffee and made a different face. She suddenly and regrettably understood completely.

She put her cup down.  _ Let's get this over with.  _ **"Your invitation said you wanted to discuss something. With regards to music?"**

**"Yes, right. Of course. I'd better not waste your time, so let me just..."** He bent down, reaching behind his desk, and for just a moment, Weiss was curious what he could be retrieving.

Then he lifted a guitar.

**"Nope,"** she said, standing up abruptly as he settled the instrument into his lap.  **"We're done here."**

She was halfway to the door before he played a single note. By the time he had gotten through the first measure, her hand was on the knob.

Then she let it drop.

She had expected Arc to serenade her with something... upbeat and peppy, or maybe slow and romantic. She would not, in a million years, have expected him to carefully pluck his way through a haunting, melancholy melody. She had never heard it before, but it struck her as familiar all the same.

**"Mirror... tell me something..."**

He was not a good singer. His voice was strained and scratchy, his projection was pitiful, and he was  _ just  _ off key enough to make her hair stand on end. And yet... he sang with such raw emotion that it almost worked.  _ Almost.  _ She could almost imagine this, not as the very deliberately staged performance it was, but as a man so overwhelmed by loneliness that he couldn't  _ not  _ give it voice, no matter how untrained and unprepared he was.

With a sigh, she returned to her seat. It still wasn't good. But it wasn't unbearable. She could humor him, at least for one song.

By the time he settled a hand on the body of his guitar, quieting the hum of the final note that still hung in the air, Weiss considered it a point of pride that she was not crying. If the song had been performed by someone more competent--or if she herself had tried to sing it--she would have broken down in tears by the second verse.

Arc seemed to be on the verge of crying himself as put the guitar down, his dark blue eyes shining with restrained tears.  **"I think that sounds better on piano, but I only know how to play guitar."**

  
**"I'm sure it also sounds better with a competent singer."**

He shrugged.  **"You're not wrong."**

After a moment of tense silence, Weiss sighed.  **"It is a beautiful piece of music,"** she said.  **"Which is how I know you didn't write it. That's a Williams song if I ever heard one. I assume Miss Nikos found you a piece of the Mirror Saga?"** Apart from the obvious lyrics, the song fit in well with the handful of pieces that had already been recovered from that opera.

**"Not a piece."** Arc reached down behind his desk again, and thankfully did not pull up another instrument. Instead he placed on the desk two data cylinders. One was ancient, bulky, but better preserved than most Weiss had seen retrieved from Remnant. The other was modern--slim, silver, and unadorned. Finally, he retrieved a stack of sheet music.  **"A full recording, original cast."**

**"...the whole thing?"**

**"Well, the cyllinder's a little worse for wear. The technicians said that around ten, twelve percent of the data is corrupted. They backed up as much as they could save, and transcribed the score for good measure. And some of the gaps can be filled in with the parts of the Mirror Saga we already have. The rest... they told me that some degree of reconstruction is typical, that most of these lost classics have a few bits that have been filled in by modern songwriters. I, I don't know if that's..."**

**"Yes, that's usually how it goes."**

**"So, this could be performed, with a little more work."**

**"And I suppose you expect me to perform it?"** Her mind was already racing with the logistics--the venue, the scheduling, the crediting and legal formalities. But that train of thought crashed to a halt with his next words.

**"I don't expect anything."**

Weiss paused, her composure slipping slightly as her brow furrowed.  **"I'm not sure I understand."**

**"It's a gift. There are no strings, no terms or conditions. The original recording, the backup, and the sheet music are all yours, to do with as you please. The entire opera is yours. Turn it over to the conservatorship of the Schnee Family, or perform the opera on your own terms, or keep it to yourself for private listening. Or, don't listen to it at all. Give it away. Put it in a vault and forget about it. Destroy it, if you want."**

**"Why would I want that?"**

**"I dunno, I'm just saying, the option is open."**

**"That's a stupid option. This is stupid, what are you** _**babbling** _ **about, Arc?"**

He looked down into his lap.  **"When I heard that recording, I couldn't think of anything but you. I thought, this is for Weiss Schnee. It was meant for her, I shouldn't have it."** He looked up, and Weiss nearly flinched at the serious expression in his earnest blue eyes.  **"And then I thought, everyone needs some part of their life, even if it's just the smallest corner, where they have no expectations placed on them. Where they have total control."** He leaned back.  **"So. The opera belongs to you. I have no say in what you do with it from here, and I don't expect anything in return."**

She narrowed her eyes slightly at Arc.  **"Don't you?"**

**"I really don't."**

**"Lord Arc, your intentions towards me are** _**transparent.** _ **Am I not supposed to interpret this as some attempt at a courtship gift?"**

**"Well."** He flushed red, but instead of denying it (or simply dissolving into stammering), he replied,  **"Of course it is. I... Lady Schnee, I'm** _**very** _ **interested in you. But, there's a difference between what I would like, and what I expect. I would..."** He slowed down with a sigh.  **"I would _like_ it, if you thought a little more highly of me, after this, and if I got to see more of you." ** He drummed his fingers on the desk, looking towards the door.  **"Or if you took the music, and walked out of my study, and never spoke to me again. I wouldn't like that, but I'd live with it. With your decision."** There was a pang of misery in his voice that made Weiss think he meant it. She didn't know if that attitude would hold up if she  _ actually  _ never spoke to him again, but at least right now, he seemed to believe what he was saying. **"Even if you take this opera--and, of course you don't have to--but if you did, you wouldn't owe me anything. "**

...she would, though. She wasn't sure what, but, there had to be an angle she wasn't seeing. A quid pro quo, a bargain she didn't realize she was making. And the fact that she couldn't figure him out was frustrating.

**"...do you think this will make up for stealing my Huntress?"**

She didn't know why she asked it. She didn't really think that was his angle. And if she had anticipated the steely gaze he would fix on her, she would have held her tongue.

**"Pyrrha was never** _**yours** _ **, Weiss."** Too familiar, he was too familiar by far, but her voice caught in her throat when she tried to reproach him.  **"Sponsor or not, you never had a claim on her; she was free to accept any offer she received, and I made an offer. I don't have anything to apologize or make up for."**

Weiss couldn't move. She felt like she was pinned to her chair, more by his eyes than his words. He didn't seem angry, exactly, but he was deadly serious and completely confident. 

His gaze softened a little, and only as she started to breath again did she realize she had stopped.  **"I recognize your family invested a lot, sponsoring her training, and I can only guess at how frustrating it must be for that investment not to pay off. But, sometimes things go wrong for you, without anyone actually doing you wrong. So, for the opportunity you missed out on, you do have my sympathy. But never my apology."**

Weiss wished she could go back thirty or forty seconds and unsay the stupid, petty thing that had set him off. She  _ hated  _ this. Hated that he had thrown her off kilter, to the point where she was making spiteful accusations that should have been beneath her. Hated that he wasn't wrong, legally, or even ethically, really. Hated that it still  _ felt  _ wrong. Hated that a year and a half later, she still felt like she  _ deserved  _ Pyrrha. Hated that bit of her father reflected in her, hated that she was being forced to look at it.

And while she dwelling on all the things she hated in this moment, she hated--and this was a relatively minor complaint--she hated that the warmth in her cheeks was not  _ purely  _ embarrassment.

Before she could turn any more red than she was sure she already was, Weiss stood up, scooped up the sheet music in her arms, grabbed the cylinders, and all but sprinted for the door. She opened it, started to step out, but with one foot still in the study, she hesitated.

**"...I'll be in touch, Lord Arc."**

**"I'll look forward to it."**

Weiss lingered in the hallway until she was sure the last of the color had drained from her cheeks. Only then, with her composure reclaimed, did she brave the central hall and the balcony full of Jaune's gleefully grinning sisters.

She settled in to her carriage, holding the music tightly to her chest. From the pages drifted the faintest scent of lemongrass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to the length of what I've written so far, the amount of material I still have planned, and some structural changes I want to make going forward (specifically, more of Weiss' viewpoint), I thought this would be a good point to break the narrative up into a multi-work series.
> 
> So, the story is still ongoing, but I'm portioning this section of as Act I, and will be continuing soon in Heel, Achilles (Act II). These are being sorted into my Regency series, which will cover probably two or three acts of Heel, Achilles and maybe some side stories.


End file.
